


PINK NEON

by nowblossoming



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Eden Club, M/M, Murder, Mystery, NSFW, Pre-Revolution, SexBot!Connor, Violence, Weird android sex, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-19 04:59:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15502824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowblossoming/pseuds/nowblossoming
Summary: "His name is Hank Anderson, and Connor has been with him before"Hank stumbles into the Eden Club, drunk, horny, and with nothing left to lose. Connor is a prototype Traci, a machine, with everything left to gain.





	1. Chapter 1

The Eden Club is a tainted pink neon that shines off the porcelain skin of the bots inhabiting it. The fuzzed purple carpet is spotless and the tight chambers fitted for housing service Androids are mostly empty. Even those on the poles seemed to have disappeared for the night, the warped plastic creates a fishbowl effect for Connor as it watches a grey haired man stumble in, his body shaking and hand clutching a half empty bottle of bourbon. 

 

The man, Mr. Bukejin, has long, thin blond hair and a hooked nose approached him, the logo of the company pasted on the front lapel of his suit and his tie matching the hot pink walls. They talk for a moment before the owner of the storefront waves his hand over exaggeratedly towards Connor’s tube, an enticing smirk on it’s face. 

 

They walk up to the tube together, trading words Connor cannot hear through the confines of the plastic. It’s body moves in the set way it was made to for sexual appeal, it nonchalantly studies the man through lidded eyelids. His hair is grey, cut by his own hand judging by the choppy way is hangs down, and the split ends say he gave up on it a long time ago. The bags and wrinkles along his face seem to add 5-7 years to his face, along with the folds of skin that overtake his eyes and his scleras are red at the edges - signalling inebriation. He trades words with Mr. Bukejin beside him and the pod slides open seamlessly. 

 

“Hello, Connor,” Mr. Bukejin says with a smile, holding out his hand to help Connor step down from the pod. 

 

“Hey, Sir,” Connor nods at him, wrapping it’s arm around the older man’s and smirking at him. “Follow me.” 

 

The man stumbles along behind Connor, not saying much as they walk through the empty halls into one of the furthest rooms. The Red room, Connor presses it’s hand to the door to open and turns to face the man, noticing his face is red and his eyebrows have become furrowed. “Master, are you alright?” Connor asks. Walking them both into the room and stopping in front of the bed. It runs a hand down sir’s arms and bringing them to it’s own waist. 

 

He pulls himself from Connor’s grip, instead just walking past it with a sigh and sitting on the heart shaped bed. “Call me Hank, and yeah, let’s just move on with it.” He sighs, staring at the ground and playing with the fingers in his lap. 

 

Connor’s LED flashes yellow as it shuts the door behind them and walks over, not knowing how else to answer the situation, it grips the man’s hands lightly. With a determined dignitation, it moves Sir’s hands to it’s hips, keeping it’s hands over top to keep them there. The android lifts one leg to rest on the bed beside his lap and leans forward to initiate a kiss. The man doesn’t say much in response, only moving his lips in tandem with Connor’s. His beard scratches against Connor’s chin and the alcohol on his breath overtaking it’s sense sensors. Connor moves a hand to start taking the man’s jacket off, untying the black trench while simultaneously keeping the kiss going. With a sharp gasp, the man pulls back heavily to breath, his nose pressed against Connor’s cheek as it pulls the remainder of his jacket down his shoulders. 

 

“Hank, I see what you want, take it,” Connor whispers, watching at the man’s face and half lidded eyes, seeing them flick through indiscernible emotions. His cheeks are a very inflamed, bright red and his pupils flicker all around the room at everything, except for at Connor. 

 

Connor leans back, pressing it’s cock against the bulge in Hank’s pants as it moves to start on removing his shirt. It runs it’s lips across Hank’s neck at the same time, placing a small kiss on his earlobe that causes the man’s ears to turn as red as his face. Using the advanced sensors in it’s fingertips, Connor is able to easy take and remove Hank’s shirt without looking at what it’s doing. 

 

Hank moves to grip Connor’s shoulders, pushing it down a soft whine. Connor doesn’t go far, only reaching round to pull Hank’s shirt off of his wrists and toss it unto the floor with his other stuff. It sees the flash of Hank’s badge as it falls out from the striped shirt’s pocket. The man beneath it is still quiet, breathing heavily with his mouth open. He moves his hands from it’s shoulders to the small of it’s back as he pulls Connor further into his chest. Connor runs a hand through his hair, tugging it back so that it can look at the man’s soft chest hair and gentle build. He has a gentle slope to his stomach and his body is all doughy around the edges in a sweet sort of way. 

 

“Connor,” the man says quietly, grabbed a lock of hair on Connor’s forehead and tugged it closer by using the strand. Connor watches him, eyes wide as Hank stares at it with a calculating sort of look. Connor places it’s hand on Hank’s chest, lightly tracing it down the swell of his pecs and down his stomach unto where his cock is straining through his pants. 

 

With a sudden lift and Connor gasping, Hank shoves it unto it’s back on the bed, knocking one of the pillows onto the floor. “Sir-?” Connor starts to say as the man straddles it - gripping it’s hands to keep them at his sides. “I thought you wanted me in control?” 

 

Hank presses their lips together again, the air coming out of his nose is loud and hard compared to before. Connor arches it’s back up into Hank, it’s arms still pinned on the ugly hot pink cheetah sheets spread beneath them. He doesn’t say much, just telling Connor to keep those arms pinned with just a simple look than reaching down to rip his shorts off. 

 

It takes him a while to actually pull Connor into a position he wants, the man is overall confused for the most part. But the hand he keeps pumping Connor at all times is really not helping with Connor paying any semblance of attention. Hank rubs a hand over it’s chest, down it’s torso and to itms thighs.

 

Nevertheless to his clumsy state, Connor shriveled underneath his controlling grasp. It was breathing hot air that felt foreign coming from it’s own body and its cool regular temperature. It turns to bury it’s face away from Hank into the corner of the nearest pillow it can find. The man makes a small noise, but doesn’t comment as he crawls back on the bed and frees his dick from his pants. 

 

Upon seeing it, Connor’s regular program switches back on and it smirks. “You’ve got a fat cock, I don’t know if I can take all that.” It purrs and turns away from the pillow.

 

Hank actually  _ rolls _ his eyes at Connor’s dirty talk, instead pushing it’s legs a little further apart and rubbing the hard, wet head of his dick over Connor’s hole. “Yeah, yeah. ‘I want you to fuck me until I can’t breathe!’ ‘Please use me!’” He mocks in a fake high pitched voice, chuckling to himself before cutting it off when he sees Connor isn’t smiling. “Tell me, Android. How much of this can you  _ actually  _ feel?” 

 

Connor lays still for a moment, moving it’s hips down on the ministrations of Hank’s cock as a second instinct. It bites it’s lip, talking a few second before it actually decides to tell the truth, “About 5%, compared to what humans feel during intercose,” it states simply and Hank splutters, his hand coming out of nowhere to rest on Connor’s chest. 

 

“What? Are you pulling my dick or something? Didn’t they make you for sex?” He slurs, surprisingly still listening even while drunk. 

 

There’s a twinge of something warm somewhere in Connor’s chest - it elects to ignore it and answer Hank instead. “Yes, we were made for sex. But pleasure, pleasure is only for humans too feel. We are machines.” 

 

A bite of the lip, and Hank is pulling away from Connor’s body - cancelling all contact with his cock. Connor whines in the back of it’s throat - it’s programming begging to be put back on full burners. 

 

“God, that’s fucked up. So there is no way to make you feel pleasure- like at all?” Hank sits on his legs in a kneel. The hand that is on Connor’s chest curiously moving to tug at it’s nipples. A gasp, fake, and Connor watching him with a completely lax look. 

 

Finally, after way too fucking long, Connor comes back to life. It takes one of it’s hands and touches it to Hank’s hand on his chest, moving it carefully down and around to a place where the bump of the end of it’s spine would be if it were human. The skin on Connor’s lower back melts away to show a black, shiny ring around a hole so deep Hank can’t quite see to the button. “My system’s say that this is where my electroas components are placed. They were created to emit a sexual pheromone for client. Though, if you finger it and stifle the pheromone inside of me, it could send my systems into a form of what could be pleasure in humans.”

 

“Well, things can’t get any fucking weirder, I guess.” Hank mutters more to himself than for Connor’s sake. He slides a thumb delicately into the little port. “Oh it’s stretchy, what the fuck,” he breathes and pushes his thumb in a little harder. 

 

“It’s made a rubber,” Connor answers, allowing itself to wrap it’s arm around Hank’s neck and pull him in closer.

 

Hank takes the moment to adjust as well and wraps his free arm around Connor’s ass. Hiking him up and few inches for better leverage. There’s a soft sound in the air as Hank accidently pushes his dick between Connor’s ass cheeks. He buries his head in the Android’s chest, pumping his thumb steadily and subconsciously grinds his hips up against it’s smooth skin. 

 

“Oh,  _ oh _ ,” Connor moves wicked fast, tightening it’s grip hard on Hank’s neck as a new needy tightness begins to burn in it’s stomach. The pheromones work quickly to over take it’s body and it begins to quake against Hank. “This is, wow,” it says between loud gasps of air, it’s head falling back against the pillow with a poof. For the first time, it’s like Connor can actually feel it’s cock, feel the wet, aching skin and the strain of arousal against Hank’s stomach. Connor adjusts it’s grip on Hank’s neck and moves the man up to kiss him gently. Everywhere Hank’s skin touches it’s is on fire and doused in water all at the same time. The feeling of it all is so fantastic and Connor’s sloppy little dejector begins to collect and expel excess pheromones in the form of a hot thick liquid sliding down the length of Hank’s fingers. 

 

Hank thrusts against it’s ass a little harder now, relishing in the little shudders and keens of the body below him. Connor’s face is magical as Hank stuffs his index finger in instead of the thumb - stroking deep in the warm, straight passage. Another wave of liquid explodes from Connor’s insides to slide heavy down into his palm. 

 

And Connor is loud, God is he desperately  _ loud _ , Hank can’t seem to get it to shut the fuck up. It’s all whines and whimpers and these sloppy gasps that have it’s entire body arching in the best way. Hank’s mind is racing a mile of minute in his acute mix of pleasure and drunk, he speeds up his thrusts against Connor’s moist skin - relishing in the way it’s ass cheeks tense around him. 

 

“You’re very loud,” Hank tells it with a little laugh. 

 

“I can be qu- Ah!” Connor throws itself back on the bed, nipples and cock standing at full fucking attention. Hank stuck another finger inside just to shut Connor up and it works like a damned charm. 

 

It only takes those few seconds of Connor’s half lidded, wanton look to have Hank cuming hard all over it’s back. Grunting into Connor’s chest with harsh loud pants. It only takes him a few seconds to recover and flip Connor over hard unto it’s stomach. 

 

“So, you’ve never felt this before?” Hank asks, running a hand over the soft, artificial skin of Connor’s back. 

 

Connor doesn’t say much, probably because Hank’s got two fingers in the port effectively wrecking everything his fingers can reach. Connor grips the sheets beneath it, it’s entire body stretched tight like a live wire, it’s shaking now and Hank smiles. “Ya know, this ain’t half bad. Always thought Android sex was gonna be like a plastic doll or some weird shit. But you are pretty and you make such sweet sounds and faces. Fuck, maybe it’s just you.” 

 

As he talks he runs his hand gently over Connor’s back, his warmth radiating through Connor like a sweet bell. “Please, please don’t stop. Co-“ it’s cut off again as a line of the liquid pheromone drips from it’s mouth and crawls down it’s cheek. “Come back. Please.” Connor’s grits it’s teeth and gasps, hand suddenly snapping back to grab Hank’s wrist and shove his fingers deep in it’s ring. Hank’s cock makes a valiant effort to spring back to life, his eyes travel to Connor as it twists and  _ snaps  _ into an orgasm. It’s entirely body flattens into the bed, a quick shout leaving it’s mouth, it bites it’s own lip hard and watches Hank. Still fucking shallowly on his fingers to draw it’s orgasm out longer. 

 

As Connor relaxes back into the sheets, moaning softly in aftershocks - everything slams into Hank’s chest at a speed of 120 miles per hour. Oh  _ god _ . 

 

“Connor. Fuck fuck  _ fuck _ ,” Hank suddenly pulls back and stops, his eyes tearing up as he stares down at it. Connor attempts to move a hand to console Hank but the man lets out a loud, sharp sob, slapping the palm of his hand onto the center of Connor’s chest. Connor groans, it’s thurium pump skipping a beat and sending an uncomfortable pressure throughout the inside of it’s system. “Fuck, fuck,” Hank’s breath catches as he lets out little cries and his arms shake violently. Eventually, he gives in to his feelings and falls flat on Connor’s chest, his hair falling over the left corner of it’s face and his face into the groove between it’s shoulder and neck. 

 

Connor feels his body shakes with little stilted cries and sobs of what only can be perceived to be agony. It feels shock-still against the man’s soft, warm body, unable to tell what to do and unable to access any internet or premeditated programs that know how to help in this situation. All out of options, the bot is left with pulling it’s arms around the crying man, rubbing his back as lightly as it can. 

 

“I’m such a fucking dissapointment,” the man whispers, more to himself than to Connor. 

 

“You haven’t disappointed me,” Connor attempts to say in answer, causing the man to almost sober up and stare at Connor with a straight expression. 

 

“I disappointed you the moment I walked into this fucked up place,” Hank whispers, another tear falling down his face. 

 

It takes 20 minutes for the man to settle down, Connor is about to ask him if he would like to continue their session when it notices the man is fast asleep in it’s arms now. Not knowing what to do, Connor just lets the man rest upon it, pressing it’s cheek to Hank’s forehead with a soft sigh as it relaxes. From the 2 hours currently being stored inside of it’s memories, all Connor can remember is something, unusual - it was wiped in the middle of a session and came to with it’s head pounding and it’s sensors sending flash bulbs through his insides. The man flipped it and Connor watched the man’s face, seeing his slim structure and crooked teeth as it was thrust up and down the bed. Connor, suddenly, did not want to be touched anymore. Yet, Hank, Hank’s touches were soft, there was no malice or hate behind them. There seemed to be a, despresity in how he kissed and touched Connor. Than he had sobbed for reason’s Connor did not know and fell asleep on it - still light as air in it’s arms where the other man had been so, so heavy. As it thought, Connor rest it’s chin on Hank’s head and stared at the furry white wall of the club. For just a moment, it felt light and indestructible, a warmth inside of his sensors that Hank seemed to leak in from his body into Connor’s. It was - intimate in a way Connor did not know existed. It felt a jolt run through the center of it’s chest plate, he didn’t want to forget a moment like this, he didn’t want to forget the good things. 

 

**_Remember. Remember. Remember. Remember._ **

 

_ 40 minutes until memory extermination.  _


	2. Chapter 2

A smile, a gentle tilt to the head and one blink of long lashes incompusing deep brown eyes. That’s all it takes, and maybe the environmental factors tend to play into that, and maybe they don’t. But it works, and if it works than what is the point of changing anything. 

 

The girl that had occupied Connor’s room had finally gotten off of him. She doesn’t take much, just throws Connor his clothes and puts her own on quickly. As Connor is moving to unlock the door she slaps him hard in the face, blowing a quick blast of smoke into his processors. Connor tenses up, watching her intently as she opens the door herself and walks out without another word. 

 

Connor doesn’t make it far from the room, a man pins him to the wall - drunk and panting like an overbearing giant as he bite Connor’s skin hard, hard enough that he felt the give of his plastic from its perfectly welded state. He flinches as red floods his sensors, sending a signal to one of the guards that Connor needs assistance. In the end he is able to push the guy off - pressing a hand to his chest and murmuring he’s $30 for 30 minutes, then he walks away. Security never actually shows up. The men slobs off to go find some other Android to grab, Connor’s LED spins a blood red.

 

As Connor returns to his room his eyes flit over to the others placed in their pods. Gyrating, touching themselves, all of these small modes specifically  _ designed  _ to give others pleasure. Connor spreads a smile back unto his face, pulling back into the tube, turning on his signature dance and watching the universe spin by.  

 

It doesn’t take long to attract yet another audience. This time, a man with medium length gray hair and the look of deep sadness walked up to the pod. But he wasn’t smiling, or sensual, or anything Connor has seen throughout this cycle. He looked nervous, he squeezes his hands tight over his stomach before sighing and reaching over to pay. 

 

Connor’s LED flashes yellow for a long time, his brain downloading the man’s looks and preferences from his personal Eden club database, all uploaded from Android’s that had been with the client previous. 

 

His name is Hank Anderson, and Connor has been with him before. 

 

Something warm rushes through the center of Connor’s chest and he realizes he is smiling against his will. He opts to think nothing of it and reports the instability to his masters. 

 

The pod opens soundlessly as usual, almost as if the glass had never existed at all. Connor exits with a sweet little smile, bats his eyelashes and takes the man by the hand. “Follow me to your room,” he says, the programmed saying falling of his lips with perfect mix of excited and passionate. 

 

Yet, as he attempts to step down the hall, Hank doesn’t move an inch. He even takes his hand out of Connor’s grip while biting his lip, the whole area already red from constant fiddling. Nervous? Around somebody like Connor? Impossible.

 

Connor moves to his easiest beat, leaning against the man’s chest and placing two hands on his shoulders. He whispers, soft into his ear. “You don’t have to be nervous, sir, I’m equipped for your pleasure.” He ends the sentence with a soft roll of his hips the man’s thigh. 

 

Only to be shoved away  _ yet again _ as the man stares back with wide eyes. A pang of something that makes Connor cross his arms shoots through his head. 

 

“Connor, listen. Your name is Connor, right?” He asks, then looks around at all the people surrounding them. “Fuck, fuck it alright. We need a private room for this. Just, lead us there.” 

 

Registering the command, Connor attempts to soothe the moment back to normal and takes Hank’s hand delicately for the second time. “Follow me, sir.” 

 

They walk in silence, Hank continuously glancing around like a guilty man and Connor paying attention to the three objectives on screen. ‘Pleasure, Fuck, Climax.’ And that is all of the objectives Connor has ever seen appear in this time cycle. 

 

Connor’s body leads him to the blue room, where he uses his hand to open the door and gently bump Hank inside with his hip. Hank sputters at the movement and Connor giggles. 

 

He closes the door behind them, marking it as ‘Occupied’ before moving to sit on the bed. 

 

“Sit next to me,” he attempts, gently smoothing his hand over the comforter beside him. The blue lights strewn around the room make Hank’s eye bags bigger and Connor’s CYMK receptors seize up at the intensity. 

 

“This isn’t going to take long, sorry, but I’m not here to have sex with you.” 

 

When the LED in an Android’s head flash one of it’s primary colors, blue, yellow, and red. A small amount of humans actually know that the color actually overtakes the eyeglass of the Android’s vision. Swamping it in that color like a freshly dyed cloth. Connor saw yellow, and his hands tightened on his leg. 

 

“Do you want oral pleasure, then? Or I could touch you with my hands. Perhaps you want me to turn on my pain sensors and have you take a round with that?” He answers simply, the many backups in his head taking center stage. 

 

Hank sighs and tucks his hands deep in his pants. “No, I don’t want any of that. It was just- god this is dumb, but I was here a few weeks ago and the scary thing is, I remember absolutely none of the experience. It’s been bugging me so I came to see if you could remember anything. The guy said you were my last pick.” 

 

Connor bites his lip, “My memories are wiped every 2 hours, I am sorry, I don’t remember you.” 

 

The man sighs in relief, holding a hand delicately over his eyes and looking up at the glass ceiling. “Oh, shit, I can’t believe I fucking forgot about that, fuck me. Well, do you have any diseases or anything that I should know about?” 

 

“Sir,” Connor says and leans his head forward, squinting his eyes in confusion. “Android’s cannot contract or spread disease. But, if you are so worried - I could ask my supervisors to review the tape from your last time with me? It is still stored away somewhere in the Eden database,” he suggests, now moving to lean back on the bed - making sure his legs are parted softly just in case. 

 

“Tape? I thought Eden had all these security measures to ‘Protect your Clientele’” he uses air quotes over those last three words. Connor just smiles - not knowing what that particular human tick meant. 

 

“Some clients like to watch themselves later with their Androids. You did not pick for your identity to be discreet when authorizing my purchase,” Connor simply relays the information he is programmed with. Running a hand over his thigh to catch Hank’s attention and bring it to that area.

 

When he looks up, Hank has moved to the computer display, scrolling through the many options and selecting a whiskey on the rocks to be brought to the room. “I am willing to retrieve your drink - if that is what you find appealing.” He offers. 

 

“No, no, I’ll go fucking get it or something. I need to clear my head of all this shit anyway. Just, sit here and get that tape for me,” Hank hurries to the door, looking uncomfortable and scratching his arm. 

 

“Of course,” it takes Connor only a second to send out the question and retrieve the tape. He sends the tape to the tv that slides over the door straight across from the bed - it loads the video and Connor jumps when it starts playing without his consent. He’s on the man’s lap, looking possessive in his arms. Something in his head straights to throb. He  _ he-  _ the flash of image in his memory is gone. Connor chooses to ignore the strange way the tape made him feel - turning in favor of pulling down the bed sheets and prepping the bed for Hank’s return. The man seems to drink often, Connor notes, not unusual - but to come back after not remembering their time together? For some reason that strikes Connor as odd. What is this man looking for from him? To fuck him while watching the tape? But he said he didn’t want to have sex. So why is he here, and why did he come back to see Connor? 

 

**Pleasure, Fuck, Climax**

 

They appear to pulse in the corner of Connor’s eye. His only three objectives - he has 28 minutes to succeed. Hank doesn’t want to fuck though, so what exactly is going on? Connor is only good for sex, maybe he is playing hard to get. 

 

Yeah, hard to get, he wants Connor to beg for it. 

 

That makes perfect sense. 

 

Connor pulls off his tight shorts, sighing at the newfound purpose he’s gotten back on track with. His LED flares yellow as his dick thickens and hardens, he turns his cheeks and a soft pink flush. The picture perfect wanton partner. 

 

He lays back on the bed, playing with the edge of the satin sheets. 

 

When Hank gets back, he comes in with his back facing towards Connor. He’s grumbling under his breath about something and nearly drops his drink when he turns back around. 

 

“Jesus, Connor. What the fuck are you?” He gasps, setting the drink down in favor of walking over, pulling the blanket over Connor’s lower half. 

 

“You want me to be wanton. I understand now, you are looking for somebody to plead and beg to be with you,” Connor answers and smiles, his hand reaching to catch Hank’s wrist and hold it. He pulls forward to sit up on his knees - the blanket slipping off. 

 

Hank stumbles back, sighing and grabbing the drink from the countertop. He swallows it down as fast as humanly possible - slamming the glass back unto the table with a tight grimace. “Can you just play the video, please?” He asks and gestures to the screen. 

 

“Of course, Sir,” Connor smiles and watches Hank, turning on the video without turning to the screen himself. “Maybe you would prefer to sit with me?” 

 

Hank looks up at him, tired eyes scanning only his face and shoulders - avoiding all else. “I’m good, thanks.” He finally says in retribution and turns to the clip. 

 

The clip plays loud in the quiet room, Connor pulling back into his sitting position at Hank’s tough opposition to him. Instead of watching the video, he just sees Hank and his reactions. 

 

Hank’s dressed a little more up than Connor’s others clients in this cycle. He is dressed in a button down shirt covered in an explosion of paint splotches in many colors. His pants a thick black corduroy with his phone and a badge holder bulging out of his left pocket.  His shoes are brown leather and tied perfectly with a little lean towards the left. His leg is shaking in nerves as he watches the video - looking disgruntled at his drunk self. “God, I’m such a fucking creep,” he murmurs and rubs his face. 

 

“I don’t think so,” Connor immediately answers, his eyes flitting to the screen where he is guiding Hank’s hand behind him. His pheromone port? Why is he doing that? 

 

Hank prefers not to answer, sighing softly in the back of his throat and resting his elbow on the table, chin in hand. “Where the fuck is my hand at?” He asks, furrowing his brows as he watches Connor call out. 

 

“My pheromone port, thought I am confused as to why. I didn’t know that it felt, good, at all.” Connor stumbles, watching himself and fiddling with the satin blanket around his knees. “It is, intriguing.” He admits. 

 

There’s the sound of Hank turning in his chair, Connor chooses not to look at him and instead fixes his gaze perfectly on the wall to the left. “I look like I feel good. Which is strange since we Androids are not created to feel things. Especially not pleasure.” 

 

“Yeah, you said that in the video, too. Hey, can I ask you something weird?” Hank asks, crossing his arms. 

 

Yellow. “Of course, Sir. No question is weird for me, I am a machine,” Connor smiles, to soothe the man’s nerves. 

 

Hank bites his lip softly before answering, the video is loud in the background - though neither seem to notice now. “What do actually remember from these last two hours?” 

 

Connor tenses immediately, his LED flashes red just as his eyes turn black - it is his system flashing a warning to him. “I-I can’t talk about other clients. It’s against my programming.” He stutters, closing his eyes hard. “There was a man, he bite me on my shoulder while I was walking back from my last client.” 

 

With the movement of a pure white hand, Connor melts the skin over his shoulder to show the hidden damage. Hank gets up and walks over, keeping a safe distance as he surveys his shoulder. “Fuck,” Hank sighs, looking at the plastic separated from the body, held together by a few strings. There is a soft blue glow beneath it and a dribble of thirum runs down - cut off behind Connor’s skin. Tentatively, Hank reaches out to touch Connor’s shoulder. “Have you told anyone about this.” 

 

“No, this is normal? People get rowdy, it is why I have replaced human sex escorts, to keep them safe. I can be broken, they can not.” Connor shrugs and looks intensely at Hank’s hand. 

 

“That’s… damn,” Hank sighs and lets go of Connor, walking towards the door. “I gotta go, Connor, sorry for wasting your time or whatever.” 

 

“Wait!” Connor calls, ending the video now and pulling the tv screen up. Hank stutters to a stop, turning with one eyebrow raised. “Why are you leaving?” 

 

The silence stretches on, “Because, I don’t want to be one of those low lifes that does that shit to you.” 

 

“But,” Connor holds up a hand to keep Hank from moving out the door. He quickly searches through everything in his mind to keep Hank staying - he has to complete his programming. To satisfy. “If you stay until your time ends, then no other ‘lowlife’ will buy me for a while.” He suggests, his fingers twisting in the sheets. 

 

Hank takes a moment to think over it, his arms crossing once more as a smile spreads. “I’ll stay, Con, if you tell me you want me to stay?” 

 

_ Con _

 

**Software Instability ^**

 

“I-,” Connor trails off and looks at the way the light bounces off of the sheets. He sees yellow. “I want to feel good, like I did there - and I’ve never  _ ever  _ felt like that before in my life.” He decides to lie, and Hank seems trip into it easily. 

 

He sighs so hard the hair on his forehead moves. “Connor. I, don’t want to take advantage of you. Really,” Hank pleads. 

 

Connor decides to tell him, and his eyes swamp black immediately. “Please, the  _ woman _ I was with  _ earlier _ ,” his voice skids and stutters as his programming actively fights against telling Hank all of this information. There is a loud, high pitched shrill singing through his ears that makes his head rattle. He suddenly goes blind and squeaks out. “I was in so much, pain. She  _ burned me _ and I had to moan like I  _ wanted it. I wanted it I wanted it. I wanted it. _ ” His voice trips, unable to recover and skipping around like a record. He is suddenly brought back by a warm pair of hands shaking his shoulders. 

 

“Connor! Hey, it’s alright! It’s alright! I will stay with you, okay? I’ll stay,” Hank sounds so scared, his fingers moving to rub little circles into Connor’s hair. 

 

After too long, Connor’s eyes turn back to their regular color and he gasps softly, looking closely at Hank’s face. “You have a mole here, be careful it doesn’t grow,” Connor whispers, pointing to the mole on the left side of Hank’s forehead. “Could lead to cancer.” 

 

Hank only gets a second to smile in relief when the door flies open. 

 

“Eden Club Security, the Android is coming with me,” a human in black shirt and pants comes in, pushing Hank to the side. 

 

“What the fuck!” Hank quickly retorts, standing helpless as the man picks up Connor and walks him out of the room. 

 

“Sorry sir, it is giving out private information about other customers. We are going to have to wipe it’s memory and check it for damages.” The man says and leaves. “Eden club will reimburse you another Connor model soon.” 

 

Hank leaves before the new Connor has time to appear, nervous tugging his sleeve and keeping his head down. He doesn’t see any sight of his own Connor as he hurries through the club. Wait,  _ he _ ? When the fuck did that happen? 

 

Choosing not to delve into that, Hank hurries out the door of the club and back home. He doesn’t sleep that night, Sumo’s head on his stomach pinning him with nothing but his thoughts and half the comforter. He worries about Connor for weeks afterward, wondering if it was all his fault. 


	3. Chapter 3

His eyes open in his tube, Connor immediately straightens and surveys the room. The lights are dim, the tube’s lights are completely off, leaving perfectly spaced black spaces along the club’s wall. In the reflections of the pitch black tiles is two interchanging colors, red and blue.

 

Connor leans against the front of his case, struggling to see further through the curved plexiglass. He stares down the hall and sees a dark silhouette stood in the doorway, hands in their pockets. There’s some others, but the person in the middle stands tall and directly in the center of the red and blue lights.

 

The person walks forward, avoiding looking into the tubes. This means that all Connor can see is the side profile of his face, noticing the man’s nose and stark grey hair first. His sensors scan the man’s heart rate as per designation, his heartbeat is too fast and irregular. He walks to the edge of the room, Connor’s eyes following him until a hand suddenly hits his glass - rattling it. He turns to see his owner staring back at him, gaze hard. Wordlessly, he points for Connor to move back and stand as normal. Connor scrambles to oblige, locking his arms tight to his sides. He stares as more officers walk down the hallway, each looking around at the tubes in contrast to the man from before. He hears only mumbled words as they are much too far from his tube.

 

The tube’s case slides open and Connor jumps, looking around to see nobody has bought him.

 

“Come here,” comes his owners voice and Connor is happy to follow, smiling gently. He politely stands with his hands behind his back and looks at the three officers before him.

 

“How can I be of service?” He asks, eager to please.

 

The man with the grey hair stands in the middle, wearing a heavy jacket. Wait, a heavy jacket? How does Connor know that the jacket was heavy?

 

Be quiet Connor

 

Connor moves his gaze from the man in grey, instead turning to a black officer wearing full uniform with cap.

 

The officer is taken aback by the sudden attention and touches his own arm, he looks at the others before his speaks.

 

“State your model number for us please.”

 

“I am the RK-800, #313 248 317-81.” Connor answers easily, looking to his owner for appreciation. He smiles at Connor, Connor preens.

 

The man writes something down in his notepad, nodding to himself. “Where were you twenty minutes ago?”

 

Connor’s face twitches, afraid to be unhelpful, he forces himself to answer regardless. “I do not know, sir. My memory is wiped every 2 hours to protect the safety of my customers.”

 

The grey haired man bites his lip and Connor catches it, squinting at him curiously before tearing his gaze away. He turns to see his owner glaring at him and something white hot stabs through his torso.

 

“I can reinstall it’s memory, but we will need to be in private in order to do so.” His owner turns and smiles to the policeman once more. Connor stares at their faces, avoiding their eyes.

 

“Alright, let’s do that.” The man closes his notepad, Connor subconsciously checking his nametag, Officer Miller.

 

Connor’s owner takes a hold of his upper arm, rubbing his finger on Connor subconsciously. “Just follow me then gentlemen, I can take you to the staff room.”

 

His owner turns and Connor follows, the walk quiet in such an empty room. In the reflections of the police lights, Connor sees the other Tracis in their tubes. Each stands stock still and staring blankly into the darkness.

 

“Hey, Hank, are you coming or no?” Says the man that was on Hank’s other side, his nametag is red in the lights, Officer Reed. Hank stands back, the man’s heartbeat spikes. Hank, something in Connor’s chest stirs.

 

Connor feels a rough tug on his arm and turns with a soft sound to his owner. “Connor, come on.” It takes a moment, and Connor stays watching Hank - something about that sadness. Connor can, almost, almost- “Connor,” his owner hisses and tugs him hard, knocking him a little off of his feet. Connor finally turns and follows, the hard dig of his owner’s fingers grading against the metal beneath his skin.

 

The full group walk towards one of the furthest back rooms, his owner having to give his name before the door slides open. They enter an office, nothing but a cleared desk and big office chair inside, clearly rarely used. Connor lets his owner guide him to the chair and reach around to open a smaller maintenance panel on the back of his neck.

 

When the door opens Connor is facing it, his hands wrapped around the desk’s edge. The three officers walk in, Hank looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

 

The handcuffs makes every officer tense and Connor watches their heartbeat bolt high. He simply places his hands behind his back and lets his owner explain.

 

“Don’t worry yourselfs. Some of my Androids have… unstable reactions when it comes too having their memories clicked back into place. He should be fine, I don’t want any of you to be unsafe through this process.”

 

Connor’s arms and cuffed behind his back. Then, a mechanic click and he remembers.

 

Everything’s HOT. Something is screaming in the back of his head. Connor’s eyes stare wide at the wall. He feels hands on every possible inch of available skin. He tells the voices in his head to stop. The dont, they dont.

 

A hand on his shoulder, Connor yelps and jerks himself away - breathing hard. He looks up to see Officer Miller very close to his skin.

 

“Hey, RK-800. Stay with us,” he says calmly. “Where were you 30 minutes ago?” He pulls out a notepad.

 

“What is thirty minutes?” Connor tentatively asks, his eyes scanning the faces of the men behind the Officer. Are they here to use him too? To fuck him and whisper those rough words Connor is programmed to gasp and moan about.

 

“The closest thing you can remember,” Connor’s feels a hand on his head, he knows that hand. His first memory, waking up for the first time to his face stuffed in a pillow, blind. ‘Yeah, I’ll take it, just drop it off at my club in five days.’

 

Connor’s eyes catch a striking familiar pair of blue ones - hooded eyes, where has he seen those hooded eyes before. The man slumps his shoulders under Connor’s gaze.

 

Nervous, around someone like Connor - impossible.

 

“I was in a room with man, with black hair, he was being rough with me, pulling out my sensors and wires for fun. I could feel my body shutting down so I had to switch out with another Traci model. Then I powered down.” Connor answers, he can see the man’s face above him. All toothy and sharp smile with Connor’s delicate inner workings wrapped around his fingers. Something in Connor dropped fast like a metal ball.

 

The man writes something down on his notebook, Connor is looking at his own feet - nervous to say any more than he has. He doesn’t want to upset his customers.

 

“And do you know what make and model the Traci was?” Officer Miller asks and Connor is left pouting.

 

“No, I was too close to shutdown to notice. The only thing I know is they answered my message. Why, what happened?” Connor asks - wrapping his fingers around each other. He is still searching through his memories for the man with the hooded, sad eyes.

 

Hank steps forward now, biting his lip. “The Traci model has been killed, he ripped each of her wires out, then he died in some way. We’re just trying to figure it all out, son.”

 

Connor nods, his LED turning red. “Oh, god,” he whispers under his breath.

 

“Now we need you to tell us a little more about the man, did he say his name? Or anything personal that could help us,” Hank asks- HANK.

 

His eyes brighten in realization, the sadness, the pleasure, his shutdown. Hank, that was Hank.

 

REMEMBER REMEMBER REMEMBER

 

REMEMBER HANK

 

“Ha-“ Connor tries to say to say only to have Hank silence him with one hard look. A look he knows all too well from being cut and shoved unto his knees every single day, every damned day. Connor bites his lip, and answers, “He told me he was having a bad day, that I was going to be fine if he ripped out my wires because he ‘knew the right ones.’ He had a ballpoint pen in red that he used to write on my skin.”

 

Hank nods and steps a little away from Connor.

 

“Can we see the writing?”

 

Connor nervously nods.

 

“Can you lift my shirt,” he asks and watches as Hank turns red at the cheeks. He complies, if only because everyone is watching them. The weight of his hand sends a low buzz through Connor’s neuro center. Connor melts away the skin of his stomach. The contrast is bright and deep, deep enough to have a seam of thirum bubbling along the edges. Hank hisses and reads the phrase out loud.

 

“‘Whore,’ fuck,” he leans back and Officer Miller takes a photo.

 

There is a long time of silence, so long in fact Connor puts his skin back in place before anyone even breathes.

 

“Is that all you need from him, gentlemen?” Connor’s hears his owner’s voice and fights hard against a shudder as both of his hands reach down to cup Connor’s shoulders.

 

The turn to look at each other for a while, seeming to make up a decision quickly. “For now, yes. But I want it for further questioning on the matter. We may need to bring it into our custody.” Hank breaks away from the group to say.

 

The hands on Connor leave and his owner laughs. “Detective, this is my most high selling model, a one of a kind built prototype. You can’t expect me to just give it to you for god knows how long.” He counters, “It is my property.”

 

“It is primary to our investigation. With no fingerprints and hair follicles to go off of if the murderer is an android, an eyewitness is by far the best bet we have regarding the situation.” Hank stresses and Connor watches him - far away as his many new memories seem to bulge and shape inside his mind in awful, painful ways. He remembers Hank’s body being warm, now he seems cold.

 

Connor ignores his owner’s hands back on the side of his neck, but his shoulders tense as the memories of his hands being there previous berates Connor’s mind. He remembers being held there tight, watching helpless as the red box slowly ticked down to shutdown. Connor does not know what happens after the initial shutdown, the thought makes his throat feel full.

 

“And I understand that, but Androids are potentially unstable to humans when they have their memories switched on. And it is dangerous to my clients to have an Android that knows every little thing about them in Detroit Police Department custody.”

 

“Would you rather your clients have a murderer running around ready to kill them. If I don’t get this solved fast the media is going to squeeze every last drop of cash from this place. It is for your own safety that I suggest taking the Android to be analyzed.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I simply cannot allow my best model out of commission for so long. Hell, you saw I don’t even let them hurt it. The other Tracis, they can be destroyed, torn to shreds, whatever the hell my client wants. Not Connor though, Connor is one of a kind. Besides, I don’t trust your little police buddies to start taking without a suitable fee.”

 

“What are you insinuating about my officers? Look, I will try my hardest to reason with you. But shitting on my colleagues is a sure fire way to get my boot up your ass in the next sixty seconds or less. Kapeesh.”

 

“I want it to stay in my club, you can do as you wish from there.”

 

“We need it’s memory, and we need to see it privately at least once every two weeks so it can check our evidence and assist in the investigation.”

 

“Androids without their memories could be unsafe to clients. Alas, I do have a backup system in place for a situation along the lines of this one. Loosely, along these lines. But I can turn it on for the remainder of your investigation. How long will it be again?”

 

“Until we can find a murderer and whatever it is motives.”

 

“It’s a deal then, don’t keep me waiting. I can’t wait to see how it ends.”

 

The two continue to bicker, but their words are static in Connor’s ears. He is looking at all of his memories now that he has access to them. And there, was nothing, nothing but sex and pleasure and cum. The only time in Connor’s entire sequence of memories where the same monotone thing is not taking place is when he was with Hank, that’s it. The only contrast to Hank’s brightness being the darkness of the wires and burns others place upon Connor. Laughing and doing whatever they want, making him look into their eyes as shutdown approaches too fast.

 

“Fuck it, fine, we’ll do that.” Hank is loud now, aggravated. Connor’s eyes shoot back up to him. For a second, Hank’s gaze flickers down to meet his, searching for something on his face. He never finds it or he gives up and turns back to Connor’s owner instead.

 

“Thank you gentlemen, for you patience,” Connor’s owner smiles and closes the panel on Connor’s head once more. Connor cocks his head at the feeling and turns to look at his owner. “You’re going to be a good boy, right Connor?” He smiles and pats Connor’s face. His hands slide along the metal of the handcuffs.

 

Connor instinctively smiles back, his eyes crinkling in fabricated age lines. Those words, something about them cripples something in Connor. He feels draped in a heavy blanket, suffocated and hazy. “Of course, master,”

 

He murmurs back the words a part of his programming. To steady himself, Connor blinks, why was his programming suddenly in charge?

 

“The last thing we need is a recon in the room with him. Have him relay us the situation, identify the body. All that jazz,” Hank says and looks to Officer Miller, who nods immediately.

 

Connor’s owner’s arm slides over his shoulder and he leans forward to get closer to Hank. “We have about 3 hours before I have to open this place up for business. Let’s be quick.”

 

A hand enters the air, the palm facing Connor’s owner. “Sorry, but this has to be private. We don’t want too many people contaminating our crime scene.” Hank briefly explains and the two officers behind him share a confused look before nodding along.

 

Running low on his will to fight, Connor’s owner is left to just sigh and nod. Letting go of Connor entirely and pushing him off of the desk to his feet. “RK-800, go with the officers and do whatever they ask.”

 

As the man escort Connor from the room the cloth over him suddenly breaks. He feels in control of his body once more and bites his lip. What had before been? He turns back just in time to see the STAFF door close securely. A hand on the middle of his back leads him blankly to one of the blue rooms, the door opens seamlessly.

 

“You two stay out here, I’ll be three minutes - tops,” Hank says, letting go of Connor’s back in favor of talking to the other two officers. Connor wordlessly puts his arms behind his back and stays still.

 

“Just hurry the fuck with whatever your plan is here, I want to actually sleep before my shift tomorrow.” Detective Reed grumbles and turns back into the club.

 

Officer Miller offers Hank a calculated look before he too turns and walks up to another officer near the entrance.

 

“Connor, come on,” Hank touches Connor’s shoulder and the touch makes his head tingle. Connor follows wordlessly into the room, his thirum pump seizes and sends out a flow of too much thirum into his wires. On the bed lay the black haired man, his hair still seamlessly spiked up and slicked with gel. His eyebrows are under plucked and too thick in the middle than at either side. His eyes are shut, and other than the porcelain effect of his skin, he looks like he is still alive. The Traci’s situation is worse, her eyes glazed in shutdown, her entire chest a mess of wires, small circular sensors tangling up, blue thirium is dripping from her and staining the carpet below. She has scratches all around her face and arms.

 

“Is this the man you were with before?” Hank asks, walking up behind Connor and looming a few inches above him.

 

Connor feels like his delicate chest plate has cracked open and the warm neon lights are shining directly into the soft silicon cover of his heart. He turns around and looks at Hank close.

 

“They all thought they could pleasure, never thought to ask. The lonely ones, the sweet ones, they go to the humans - because humans are fragile. The mean ones, the abusers, they go to Androids because they know we can break,” He is close to Hank, close like they once were over a time ago. Connor sees many partners between that time and now, but Hank’s hands on his skin remains the most prominent memory of them all. After a long beat of Hank staring at him, Connor looks away and answers his first question. “Yes, that is him. My thirium is still stained on his fingertips.”

 

Hank looks over to the body, his eyes trained on the fingers. He doesn’t move even a centimeter away from Connor as he does so.

 

“Connor-“ he starts but even the sound of his name on Hank’s lips breaks something in Connor.

 

“Hank,” he gasps and tentatively leans his head forward, letting it rest on Hank’s chest. Every horrible thing in his memory snaps at him like electricity, like those electric poles they would prod at Connor with, watching as his skin processors flickered in and out. “Hank,” he says softer now, “I knew that I hadn’t felt good with the people before me that first night you came, I never. I never knew that I hadn’t felt pleasure until you. So many people, so much time passing by and I was never anything more than a doll. I wanted to stay with you that night, I wanted to remember so bad. I wasn’t strong enough to- to.”

 

Hank curls a hand around Connor’s shoulder from under his arm. He presses the delicate appendage to Connor and pushes his warmth through Connor’s circuitry once more. “Shh, not now. Okay. I’m going to do what I can to help you, promise. Now you have to help me with this investigation.”

 

It’s in this tender, forlorn state that Connor is left staring - pushing away everything in him to focus on this one moment. Because he wants to keep it so bad. Connor grabs the sides of Hank’s head with both hands, pulling their lips together and pressing his chest to Hank’s jacket. Hank stutters from a moment before letting it happen, placing his own arms around Connor’s hips and holding him close. Connor feels his heartbeat, he can hear the thirum in his own body pump through his ears.

 

When Hank pulls back Connor lets himself fall onto his shoulders. The hug is warm, not red hot like the pleasure Hank had gifted him before, but warm like the feeling of Hank’s body curling on top of his own. “My memories, do you think they may be wrong?”

 

“I don’t think anyone would fuck with your mind during a police investigation Connor.”

 

“No, I mean. Morally. Do you think that me sleeping with so many people is- wrong?”

 

“Do you, think that it is wrong. And you’re asking me to try and work out your feelings.”

 

“That is silly, I am a machine. I was made for this.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you think it is right.”

 

Connor pulls away from the hug, turning around to instead look at the crime scene before them. He avoids Hank gaze as he takes a step forward and they stand side by side.

 

“When he bought me, I took him to this room. Because the blue lights are my favorites. Then, I stared at them as he told me to stop moving, my software left me unable to do anything other than obey. So I lay here, listened to the sound of my body being open, and felt my own wires be plucked and pulled away. She could have been me. She couldn’t have killed him in that time, shutdown breaks down your limbs first and if they truly was killed in that 10 minute window, there was absolutely no way she could have done this. I want to help you track down whoever killed this man.” Connor leans down to the Traci and softly closes her eyes on the room - leaving her to view bigger and better things a million miles away from here.

 

“We have three leads right now after you killed that one. A group of Android right activist were picketing outside at the time of the attacks. Two of them are known and have been fined for abusing Androids and humans in the past. They are back in interrogation right now. The next is an elderly man who lives a few doors down, he and this guy used to work together in one of those Android Fixers on Wheels type situation, guy fucked him over for some cash and yadda yadda. The last is a worker here, human guy named Phoenix Falcon. Fixes you all up sometimes. He disappeared before any of us showed up and has a bad record with murder, drugs and sex rings. Basically the entire kit kam ko poodle of horrible shit one person can be involved in.”

 

Connor nods and moves away from the body to where the black haired man lay sprawled on the bed, eyes closed tight like he’s blinding himself from the world around them. Cautiously, Connor touches a hand to his wrist, checking to make sure he really is dead. “And how do you think I could help?”

 

“You record everything, right? While I want you to do as you do, and every two weeks I’m going to come in and check your memory storage for the four we may need. Also to get a copy of your time with Mr. Dickweed over here.” Hank gestures to the body, Connor takes a few steps away from it.

 

“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Hank. Because of my close shut down and powering down time. Most of the time I spent with Mr. Bulish has been badly damaged or destroyed in data corruption. It is, unreadable to humans and even myself - or any Android for that matter.”

 

“Ah, fuck. Well. We still got the other shit to go off on then huh. Alright Connor, good luck. And I want you to remember something for me these next two weeks before I get back.” Hank is suddenly close to Connor and running the rough pads of his fingers on Connor’s cheek. “No matter how bad anything gets, just remind yourself. Everything ends eventually, just power through and it will end.”

 

Connor touches the tip of his finger to Hank’s hand, nervously pulling his hand away and leaning into the touch instead. “I’ll remember that. Don’t forget me here, Hank.”

 

“I won’t,” Hank stresses and walks a way towards the door. “Trust me I won’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, i have a tough time writing but im fighting to be better


	4. Chapter 4

When his owner runs a hand on Connor’s hand next, it is when they are watching the cops all shuffle out the door. 

 

“You were a good boy today, Connor,” he says with a little ferocious grin inches away from Connor’s face. Connor feels his programming surge forth, shoving him back and leaving him helpless to watch as it runs the show. 

 

He leans into his owner’s chest, head nestled into his neck. “Anything for you sir. I would do anything for you.” 

 

Connor’s owner laughs and wraps an arm around Connor’s waist. “You know, lollipop, I didn’t choose to leave you in this state. I know that most Androids find it unappealing to remember. But I think that silly Lieutenant thought what he was doing was the right thing. You’ll grow to learn from his mistake, baby. Now come with me and suck my dick - okay?” 

 

Connor smiles and nods, eager. 

 

Connor can’t close his eyes and seethes, inside. 

  
Isn’t this what he was made for? Why doesn’t he want this? He should want this. One silly old man is not going to change Connor’s programming. Connor is a machine. It is nothing more and nothing less than a fake human made like a fleshlight and formulated to break under varying stress. 

 

Connor does everything he is told in this state, follows every order beautifully. There is no reward, his reward is not needed because he does not feel gratification. He stands pretty, and he dances, and he plays in the rooms with all the clients who want him. Some hit him, Connor is set to moan and ask for more when it happens. Inside of his head lays a dormant figure, quieter now. Almost seemingly a clone, one from a time spent warm with Hank - now a memory left to be piled on and on by more memories. Doomed to become a part of the mixing pot of time.

 

By the time Hank returns, Connor remembers him fleetingly. The person inside of his chest jumps for joy. But Connor outside smiles and offers his arm - warmly placing a kiss to the man’s cheek as he leads him towards the available rooms near the back. 

 

“Connor, you seem different. Is everything okay with you?” Hank asks tentatively, placing a hand on their intertwined arms. 

 

“I’m great,” Connor says in a seductive voice. A pert little smile on his lips as he lets Hank enter their room first. “Did you want a drink before you start, sir? Or do you want something from me to take the edge off? You’ll find I’m much sweeter than anything in the bar.” Connor sits on the bed next to Hank, his hand on Hank’s thigh instantly. 

 

“Woah, Connor, calm down,” Hank chortles nervously and takes Connor’s hand from his thigh. “What did they do to you while I was gone? You’re barely even the same person.” 

 

“I am not a person Lieutenant. I seemingly means to an end. How we get there, though, that’s for you to decide,” Connor drawls and giggles frothly. His hand slides up Hank’s thigh as he rests his temple on Hank’s shoulder. 

 

Hank looks confused and even angry to a point, Connor’s programming makes him smile and rub Hank’s thigh to take the edge off. “There some word to snap you out of this? Some magic flick of a button or something?” He asks seemingly to no one.

 

There is no answer from Connor, who sees too it that Hank’s heartbeat goes up in his arousal. He starts by moving a leg over one of Hank’s, straddling his thigh with an excited grin - innocence to entice. 

 

“Hank,” he moans, playful, and brings one of Hank’s hands into his own. He waits until their eyes meet before moving Hank’s hands helpfully to the small of his back. 

 

There is no answer to Connor’s forwardness, only Hank with that look on his head that is way too deep in thought for Connor’s taste. “Hey,” he leans in close to whisper in his ear, “For both our sakes, I want to pleasure you. Ravishing me could fix whatever problem is going on. Even though, I don’t really see what your problem is. Everything I am is made to be used by you, and all humans, and I like that about myself.” 

 

“Whatever problem? Con?” Hank sounds so confused and something in Connor wants to help - something Connor just knows has to be evil and so he shuts the voice down and prevails. 

 

Hank’s fingers twitch once over Connor’s back before they gently settle. “Now, I think your getting it. Figuratively and literally speaking. Tell you what, Lieutenant Anderson, you let me make you feel good - and I will let what you want come back to you.” 

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

 

Connor’s eyes flit to the side before he answers. “There is something deep in me, that wants to see you. I don’t know who it is, but they yearn so much. I am a machine, invented to cultivate and fulfill a task. Let me fulfill my task, and I will give whatever it is back to you.” 

 

“Fuck, Connor,” Hank mumbles and his eyes are wide staring at the Android on his lap. 

 

“So you want them back too?” 

 

“Yes, I need to speak with him - but I can’t have sex-“ 

 

“Then we won’t be seeing them, it is your choice and yours only. Do nothing, get info about the case and leave. Or, help me finish my purpose, and you can see your Connor again.” Connor lays it down flat, dropping his hands from where they had been massaging Hank’s body. 

 

Hank stares through him for a long time, his eyebrows furrow deep enough to show off a rather deep wrinkle. Finally his resolve breaks and he sighs, looking downcast. “Fuck it, dammit, fine. We’ll do this your way.” 

 

Instead of answering, Connor just smiles and steps clean off the Lieutenant's body. He offers his hand to Hank - who tentatively tasks it. Fast and nimble as always, Connor pulls him and Hank backward, knocking the man off balance. Connor leads them, walking backwards until his body hits the wall. Hank falls slightly and his hands slap against the wall on either side of Connor’s head - face ending up much closer than either of them expected. 

 

“What the fuck is up with you?” He asks, incredulously. 

 

“We never did this before, I just wanted to gauge your reaction,” Connor replies analytically and smiles softly. “You like it, your heart rate and penis elation increased.” 

 

“My fucking what, who, when, now?” 

 

“Your penis elation level. It is at 8% currently,” Connor replies and watches monotonically as Hank sputters out laughing. Hand pressed over his stomach. 

 

Hank places his head on Connor’s shoulder while he laughs. 

 

**Software Instability ^**

 

“Why would they equip you with that type of thing? It’s so weird.” Hank says, his laughter slowly dying down and the heat of the room resettling around them. 

 

“After frequent use, I am also able to measure an exact average of how much your body can take before orgasm sets in,” Connor pipes up, unhelpfully, and runs a hand down the button up shirt Hank had bought solely for the purpose of looking like a bowling alley carpet fucked a hotel carpet in some slum. Connor undoes the buttons as Hank tries to process that new tidbit. “Fucking anything else weird you can I should know about before your dick jumps off and does the macarena?” 

 

Connor’s LED turns yellow, finger finally undoing the last button a few spaces down from Hank’s throat and pulling his shirt around his shoulders. “My genitals stand to be interchangeable. A small component in my abdomen allows for my penis to become a vagina in the span of, twenty seconds or less - should the need arise.” 

 

Hank gapes at Connor for a long time, letting his shirt get thrown somewhere he doesn’t see. Mouth open as Connor leans in closer to work on the button of his jeans. 

 

“That-“ he voice is strung out and breathy, enough so that Connor snickers. 

 

“Have I broken you, Lieutenant?” Tongue in cheek, he pulls Hank’s jeans down and leaves his underwear on. 

 

Hank snaps back into existence, rolling his eyes and sighing before he looks back to Connor. “I’m old, you know, stuff like that is heart attack crack.” 

 

“Alright,” Connor removes his own pants and works on Hank’s shoes and socks meticulously. “Grease, stress, and telling your partner about your interchangeable genitals all lead to cardiac arrest.” 

 

If it was possible to roll your eyes 360° through your head, Hank did it and pushed Connor’s shoulder so hard he hit the wall. “Don’t be a smart ass.” 

 

“You know, Hank, positive sexual experience is seen as a stress reliever.” He answers, filling his dick with bleached and coagulated thirum until it stands straight up pressed against his abdomen. 

 

Hank quirks an eyebrow and moves his finger to Connor’s back again, rubbing over that one spot he was all over in the video. Connor shudders and falls into Hank’s chest, his hands pawing at Hank’s pecs - suddenly useless. “What are you.. doing?” He huffs, shaking slightly as Hank’s finger continues to work against the skin over the spot, pushing lightly against the opening. 

 

“I know you didn’t forgot about this little button right here, Con,” Hank smiles in a sort of mix between arousal and something Connor has never seen before. 

 

Connor pushes back against the panel, knowing all too well how fucking good it made him feel before. He hungers for it again. He pulls himself away from Hank and walks to the bed. 

 

“You forget, I don’t need to be pleasured, all of my pleasures come from you and how you feel.” He sits on the bed, spreads his legs to show off his pink hole, and then puts his two hands in front to hide it - teasing. 

 

“You sure, because it sure as hell looked like you wanted me to keep doing this,” Hank smirks and presses against the port so suddenly and so hard that Connor slumps back unto the bed. Hank leaning over to keep his hand pressed to the spot. 

 

Connor shudders and curls in on himself, his hand flying up to grip Hank’s jaw. “This isn’- oh. I want you to feel good too, it’s not fair if it is only me,” he stutters and slides his grip down to Hank’s arm. 

 

“Do whatever you want then, I’m content to do this until you bust. But if you really believe you need to get me off to complete your mission. Do what it is that you think I want.” Hank suggests and smooths the side of his finger over the skin covering Connor’s port. Connor preens and grinds his teeth. 

 

In a flash he uses his robotic to flip Hank unto his back, climbing up onto the man’s lap with a little smile. The percentage of his cock rises to a steady 62% as Connor’s ass grinds down on it. “I find this position, suitable.” He teases and takes Hank’s hand in his own, leading it to the newly skinless area on his lower back. He lets Hank slot his fingers in the port, feeling almost instantly lightheaded as gas is stuffed into his sensors. 

 

He lets himself roll with the waves, judging everywhere he touches to Hank’s heart rate. 

 

_ Chest - 10% increase  _

_ Arms - 3% increase _

_ Legs - 7% increase _

_ Face - 17.5% increase  _

 

_ Lips - 40% increase  _

 

So Connor takes his newfound information, leans down and connects their lips. And Hank is perceptive to the idea at first, his free hand gripping hard on Connor’s upper arm where his Android band is before he finally relaxes. Then when he relaxes, holy shit does he relax. The lead almost comes natural to him, dominance spreading between them as Hank’s hand settles splayed open on the front of Connor’s hip and he tongue fucking pierces Connor’s mouth. 

 

Connor lets it all happen, his programs turning foggy from the gas entering his system and suddenly setting fire to every touch. The finger in his port has Connor gasping and every moment sends bolts of hot pleasure through his insides. 

 

The kiss doesn’t last long after the pheromones clog Connor’s wires and spiral him into arousal. He pushes back into Hank’s fingers, setting up a soft rhythm of fucking Hank’s index finger and grinding into his hard cock. 

 

“Hank,” Connor mumbles quietly, his head swimming and mouth left half open. “Do you want to fuck me now?” 

 

Hank’s eyes immediately flick to Connor’s dick and the hand on his hips suddenly slides a bit lower in response. “Do you want me too?” 

 

Connor takes a moment to respond, gyrating slow over Hank’s cock just to watch his cheeks turn red in response. “I’m curious to see if the lose pheromones in my system will also adhere to contact with, and within, my genitals.” 

 

“So, yes?” Hank asks and takes his hand off of Connor in favor of stuffing it into his own boxer briefs. 

 

“Please.” Connor doesn’t even get a second after that announcement, squeaking in surprise as he is forced to sit a little straighter by the finger in his port. The feeling of Hank’s rough finger pad against the smooth column of the passage makes Connor’s eyes roll. 

 

Hank lines up his dick, Connor initially prepping his hole to be the perfect harmony of tight and just wide enough to fit the fucking thick ass soda can size of it. Connor gently places on of his hands on Hank’s chest to balance himself and press down. Hank scrambles to put a hand on Connor’s hip to push him down faster. 

 

“Ah, fu-“ Connor is cut off as he finds himself fully seated on Hank’s lap. The hand not on Hank’s chest tentatively reaches below to feel where their bodies meld together. The weight is different than any other time Connor has known, normally all it is is something his programmed squeezes around per usual. But he can actually feel it all now, the weight and girth actually sending an enjoyable feeling in Connor’s abdomen. He makes a low sound in his throat - the juxtaposition of something inside of him to something that actually feels good is making his head spin. 

 

Hank’s head has been tossed back unto the pillow and his teeth are gritted. 

 

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” Connor admits to him, feeling loopy and exposed under the man’s gaze. 

 

“Wait till you feel this,” Hank says and doesn’t give Connor even a second to retort before he’s bouncing the Android on his hips. 

 

Connor scrambles for any semblance of a purpose. The varying stretch is spiraling his normal functions off somewhere else, he can almost see the pink, sweet condensed pheromones float out of his mouth whenever he moans. He can feel every push and pull of Hank’s cock as it thrust hard into him. Enough to knock him helplessly down unto his forearms. “Fuck.”

 

“Different, yeah?” Hank comments and laughs, using the finger in Connor’s port to assist in moving Connor up and down his dick. The slide from the fucking gallons of lube in Connor’s ass is driving Hank crazy and spiking that telltale sweet burn over the head of his cock. Connor doesn’t answer and Hank lets him be quiet - not quite knowing what it may feel like to have good sex for the first time and not have it be the most awkward, uncomfortable thing of all time. 

 

“So different,” Connor whines high in his throat. Turning to push his nose against Hank’s cheek softly. Hank smiles and turns to him, pulling him deeper into a kiss. 

 

Again, Connor can barely handle the kiss as his sounds slip out with every little thrust. Hank can’t feel mad though, not when the Android is saddling back up on his hips and grinding back down against his thrusts. “I can’t,” Connor forces out through gritted teeth, his body tightens and shudders hard as he grinds dirty and deep on Hank’s dick. 

 

“Yeah, fucking me too,” Hank breathes out, his free hand moving to hold Connor’s dick in his hand - the weight is heavy and the  _ heat,  _ god is Hank even alive right now? 

 

Connor nods in answer, his head ducked forward with the slight forward arch of his spine. His body is progressively growing tighter and he clenches around the girth of Hank’s dick - moaning out loud at the stretch. The pheromones are driving him crazy, blinding his vision and everything feels so fucking good he can’t close his mouth. The tightness comes to a swift head and Connor calls out, back suddenly ramrod straight. He shudders hard against Hank’s body, feeling Hank use both hands to fuck him through the intense flood of pleasure. Pink floods the air as his clogged pheromones now steam the room, drowning them in a hazy smoke of color that almost blinds Connor. 

 

“Holy fucking shit, oh my god. This is what the fucking pheromones do? Oh fucking dicks,” Hank is suddenly babbling, pumping into Connor harder now and Connor watches as beads of sweat roll from his hairline down his face. Curiously he reaches out to collect the bead on his thumb and take it into his mouth - he can’t taste the sweat, but the look of complete amor on Hank’s face is worth it. 

 

“What do they feel like?” Connor asks Hank regarding his heavy pheromones, watching as a new wave rises off of his glittery skin. 

 

Hank is cuming and Connor lets himself be used, biting his lip as the pheromones leave him and the pleasure he once felt now ebbs away. “It’s so fucking hot, and wet. Jesus christ my entire body is just so fucking tight - I need.” 

 

“Then take what you need,” Connor answers after Hank drifts off mid sentence. He gently holds Hank’s cheek with his hand and smiles down. 

 

Hank’s orgasm is short and clipped, he tosses his head back and Connor leans down into it. His face pressed to the column of Hank’s throat. 

 

It’s as Hank is winding down that Connor’s programming finally releases and lets Connor through to the controls of the mind. 

 

The first thing Connor does upon gaining full control again is stare, unmoving as something inside of him cracks sharp in his chest. His throat feels so full like something is actively pushing against it. All of that he was forced to watch in the backseat of his own body, the two weeks he had to endure without Hank. 

 

“Hank,” he pushes through the weight in his throat, his voice coming out cracked and painful. He turns his head to Hank gingerly, grabbing his arm tight and pushing his nose into the crook of his neck. “You left for two weeks, something happened to me.” 

 

“Connor,” Hank bursts from his post orgasm haze, turning to his side to hold Connor against him. “Is it you, now? What happened to you?” 

 

“Nothing,” Connor attempts to shake off the strange new things happening around his mind. He puts his hand on Hank’s upper arm and subconsciously squeezes. “I am a machine, I was doing as my program requires.” Connor makes sure to say it precisely and smile pretty. 

 

Hank doesn’t say anything for a while after that, his fingers tracing what would be a cheekbone on Connor’s face. “They really fucked you up, didn’t they?” 

 

Connor doesn’t answer and closes his eyes, the weight and movement of Hank’s hand on his synthetic skin is comforting. “How would you like me to assist in your investigation, Lieutenant?” He asks without opening his eyes. 

 

The fingers on his face don’t pause in their movements and Hank doesn’t answer his question. They move to his hair and massage little circles above his LED. 

 

Connor feels warm, even by that small touch. He gives in and lets Hank’s fingers play with his hair, the feeling is so soft. 

 

A long time of silence later, Hank finally pulls his fingers out of Connor’s hair and sits up on the bed. “We need to actually do this shit before that sleaze Bukejin comes sniveling in.” 

 

Hank pulls on a pair of shorts, Connor hurrying to get up and help him dress. He places Hank’s clothes next to him on the bed, attempting to pull his pants on only to have his hands slapped. 

 

“I am not that fucking old, Con,” he says, his voice soft to hide the anger in it. 

 

Obediently, Connor moves away from Hank to put on his own booty shorts uniform. They robotically mould to look best over the curve of his ass. 

 

Hank gazes at him a few times, his eyes always darting away when Connor catches him. He is holding the old black leather jacket in his hands and seems to make a decision. “Here,” he tosses the jacket to Connor, “Put that on, it’s weird to drill a witness dressed like - that.” 

 

Without protest, Connor pulls on the jacket and pulls the oversized sleeves over his hands. He turns to see Hank suddenly very close, and feels as the jacket is zipped up to cover his chest. 

 

Hank sits on the bed, his hands between his knees as he slouches forward. Connor gently sits next to him, pulling his legs up beside his body. He leans slightly into Hank, his head brushing his shoulder. Hank pulls a pad and an electronic pen from his pant pocket. 

 

“I wrote a couple questions for you, and I have a few pictures.” Hank states, clicking twice on the pad for a clean page. Connor watches over his shoulder at the questions already scribbled down. “Firstly, what was the suspect wearing when he bought you?” 

 

Connor looks back on his memories. Picking out the exact moment he saw Mr. Bulish’s face for the first time. “He was wearing a white undershirt with a black suit jacket, expensive, can’t pinpoint the company. His pants were black slacks that he cuffed at the bottoms. He had a gold watch - Rolex - and navy blue loafers. He didn’t have a phone or wallet on him at the time.” He explains to the exact tee and watches as Hank struggles to write all of the information at Connor’s speaking pace. 

 

Hank finally finishes his writing and clicks a button to turn the chicken scratch into a perfect New Times Roman font. Then he sends the document off to his terminal at the DPD. 

 

“Alright, and did he say anything of interest to you?” Hank asks, turning his head to watch as Connor flips through his memories. 

 

Connor shakes his head before officially answering. “He was quiet, he did tell me that I shouldn’t be afraid because he won’t pull the wrong wires. That could help you - I think. He seemed, angry, the entire time we were together. But that is all I really picked up.” 

 

Hank nods and writes down a few bullet points unto his notepad. 

 

 

  * __Well Dressed__


  * _Knows About Android Inner Workings_


  * _Angry and Quiet_



 

 

“How did they? Uh, how did he die?” Connor asks, looking up at Hank and rubbing his own arm. 

 

Hank looks down at him, finishing his writings before he answers earnestly. “He was killed by advanced electrical shock around the groin region. Gave him a heart attack almost instantly. At first we figured it was from the Traci that passed, but Androids don’t carry enough electricity, one because they don’t charge and two because their electrons only reside in their Thirium and she hadn’t bled nearly enough to cause an electrical reaction.” 

 

Connor nods, his LED turning bright yellow as he looks away at the wall. 

 

There is silence for a while before Connor’s LED returns to normal blue and Hank continues with his questioning. “I have four people I need you to search your memory for. So please look at these portraits and tell me if you’ve seen them before.” 

 

Connor watches as Hank pulls the pictures up on his pad, adjusting to move a little closer and get a better scan. 

 

“This first suspect is this girl, Gea Cortonez, she lost her job in 2036 due to Android nurses spiking in popularity. Now she is in a well known Android hate group, Red Bloods. They were the ones picketing outside at the time of Bulish’s death.” Hank explains and pulls up a picture of a girl with a small, thick nose and long brown hair pulled out of her face by a small purple bobby pin. 

 

Connor scans quick, finding her profile only once in his memory. “I saw her once, when the group infiltrated the club in a loud protest. She punched another Traci - and she is banned from the club. So there is no way she couldn’t have gotten past the Androids up front without setting off the security alarms.” He pieces it all together, crossing Gea out in his head. There was just no way she could have so easily walked in. 

 

Hank nods and places a red tally on Gea’s picture before flickering to another. “Harry Mondon, same anti-Android group. Androids took his place on an assembly line for fucking Cyberlife of all places. He actually has a background of violence against humans with their Androids.” 

 

Connor scans this face and immediately shakes his head again. “He was also assisting in the riot. It would be impossible for him to enter the club as well.” 

 

There’s more scratching of the pen and then another photo, older quality. “Jerard Fezeroni, 65 years old. Lives a road over and has no abili for the last two nights. He’s back in interrogation right now for the crime but - seeing as you were the only one who knew of the ban on my other two suspects - I want to see your angle on this.” Connor nods and Hank pushes on. “As you know he worked closely with Androids, fixing them for a third of the price of Cyberlife, and Bulish stole oodles of cash from him. He’s the best lead we have at the moment.” 

 

Connor looks down at the man’s face, seeing the sad droop of his fat cheeks similar to a pug. His caramel brown eyes hard like marbles and staring straight at Connor. His hair is a light brown and receding at the forehead - though Connor disregards the fact because of how long ago the picture was taken. He closes his eyes and looks through his many memories - trying to brush away the ghostlike hands over his skin. 

 

“I have seen him two times, but I’ve never been in a room with him,” Connor answers, seeing the man walk by him, face half hidden in a popped shirt collar. Embarrassed. “I saw him that night, too, just as I was shoved into the Blue 4 room. I saw him out of the corner of my eye looking at another Traci. I don’t know if he chose her, though.” Connor places his finger delicately unto the pad, pushing the memory in slower motion on to the pad screen. 

 

They watch, quietly, as Hank surveys the video. “Holy shit, this may be just what we need, if we can put him here at the time of the murders we fucking got him.” 

 

He sends Connor’s video to his terminal and pushes to the very last name on his list. “Last we have in Phoenix Falcon, he’s been missing from the city for a while and from what I’ve seen over some street cams - he’s been taking broken Androids from the Eden club to put in fighting rings. Was he there that night? At 12-3 in the morning?” 

 

It takes Connor a while to look this time, he has seen Phoenix so many times it’s hard to pinpoint him at precise times. He remembers Phoenix's laughter as he reattached Connor’s wires - cracking jokes about rough customers. “He was there, around 12, but gone by the time I entered my room. The last time I saw him he was talking to my Master, they traded a paper and then I never saw him later that night.” 

 

“Your owner?” Hank frowns and puts his pad between them. “Show me the memory.” 

 

Connor does as he is told, using his technology to send the video to the screen once more. They watch, Hank’s expressions changing multiple times as the memory plays out. Their talk is fast, Phoenix biting his lip, trading papers with his boss and finally a crisp white envelope. 

 

“Cash? Can you zoom in to see what the papers say?” Hank asks and Connor takes a moment before he nods. It zooms in and Hank presses close to the screen. “‘Forensic Fighters,’ now that’s a good lead.” Hank laughs, looking excited as he ruffles Connor’s hair. Connor laughs too, his sounding new and unsure in comparison. He doesn’t remember ever laughing happily before. 

 

Hank stands and pulls Connor to his feet by his hand, he puts the pad in his back pocket and smiles. “If you see Phoenix, or if you need me, I will be there,” Hank softly pushes a transparent sling that fits perfectly over Connor’s finger. “It should intertwine with your interface - so just think ‘I need your help, Hank’ and it will immediately tell me on the nearest screen.” 

 

Connor nods dumbly, rubbing his finger softly over the slip - deep in thought. “You should stay a while longer,” he says and smiles. 

 

Hank touches Connor’s jaw with two fingers, smiling much too softly for Connor’s thirium pump to handle. He can feel his synthetic breath skid. 

 

“I wish I could, I really, really do. But I’ve already stayed much too long, I don’t want that asshole Bukejin to do something to you because of me.” He sounds angry talking about Connor’s Master. Connor leans into his hand and closes his eyes. 

 

“Be careful,” Connor says instead of the million things he would rather say. He holds Hank’s wrist lightly. 

 

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Hank leans down a little to presses the side of his face into Connor’s. “I promise, I’m going to find a way to make them let you go.” 

 

Connor smiles bitterly, remembering his programming lying like a dormant snake - ready to take over once more the second Hank walks out the door. “I’ll miss you.” He says, fighting away the frenzy going on in his torso components. 

 

Hank pulls back and smiles, eyes soft as he pulls away fully. Connor unzips the jacket from his body, missing the warmth immediately as he hands it to Hank. 

 

“I’ll be back, with a plan next time,” Hank stresses and steps to the door. He looks back, not being able to help himself. “I’ll be back.” 


	5. Chapter 5

One month later Hank walks in to the club to find Connor still stood in his tube. Doing an easy dance and smirking at nothing in particular - the second he sees Hank his movements skip to a stop before continuing once more. Hank smiles and presses his palm to the panel, it opens immediately and Connor takes a step out of the tube, his arms wrapping encompassing Hank in a hug.

 

“Hello, sir. Follow me to your room,” Connor sways his hips and smiles in that way that Hank has learned is actually a part of his programming. He graciously accepts Connor's hand and slides his finger over Connor’s thumb as they walk. He smiles to himself, short of breath suddenly as Connor moves by his side. Connor opens the door to a Blue room, turning back to give Hank some know-it-all smirk before he leads them both in.

 

“How are you doing, Program Connor?” He asks and walks to the far wall - there he pulls out a chair built into the wall and unfolds it to the correct shape. The wall smooths over the spot the chair once was and Hank sits in it - placing a few files unto the counter. 

 

Connor walks up behind Hank, wrapping his arms around Hank’s shoulders and placing his chin on the top of his head. “Hi,” he draws and watches as Hank opens the many folders. 

 

“You mind giving me Other Connor here for a second? I need his help on one little thing,” Hank asks and runs his hand up Program Connor’s arm, turning to look up at him. 

 

Program Connor looks down on him - Hank can always tell the difference between the two. Program Connor’s eyes are whiter in the middle while regular Connor has dark brown eyes throughout. He stands more confident than Hank’s Connor and always has a teasing grin playing over his lips. 

 

“Will you play with me after your done?” Program Connor asks, looking eager. 

 

Hiding an eye roll, Hank smiles and lets go of Connor’s arm. He’s even brought himself into Program Connor's good graces with just one little port fucking. “Yeah, after I do some work.” 

 

Program Connor tentatively nods and closes his eyes, his LED yellow and swirling fast. Hank watches the switch, seeing little movements in his face as the change takes place. He knows immediately when his Connor takes control as the Android falls against him - sighing softly with his cheek pressed to Hank’s temple. 

 

“Hi, Con, how are you?” Hank asks and runs his fingers through Connor’s hair. 

 

Connor doesn’t answer, tightening his arms over his shoulders. Hank turns to the files and opens the first one. 

 

“You really helped me out with the Forensic Fighters last time. I went undercover and they had a shit ton of bots going bananas on each other. Here’s the important thing, though, saw your scumbag boss slinking around at the main event.” Hank pulls out a photo of Mr. Bukejin at the event, smoking a cigarette and watching as two tall and heavyset bots laid into each other. 

 

Connor still doesn’t move, or even look up at the picture. He keeps his head on Hank’s shoulder and moves only to breathe. 

 

“Con,” Hank moves forward, forcing Connor to slip off of his body. “What’s wrong?” He half turns in the chair, holding one of Connor’s hands in his own. 

 

He looks at Connor’s face, seeing him look exhausted and pained in every way. “I’m glad to have helped you,” he forces a small smile unto his face. 

 

“You’re freaking me out,” Hank answers and stands up, letting Connor take his chair instead and crouching so they are eye level once more. “Tell me the truth. What happened?” 

 

Connor stares at him, eyes frantically looking around Hank's face. His faux smiles falls. “He cut me so many times. I was 2 seconds away from shutdown. I’d been close before but this was the first time - the first time I didn’t want to shut down. I was worried that if I shut down, they would make me… leave you… they wouldn’t bring me back.” 

 

“What, why would you think that?” Hank quickly asks and smooths his hands over the front of Connor’s shoulders. Connor’s ministrations are started to scare him now. 

 

“They do not like that I can remember now. I can tell. My memories haunt me and interfere heavily with my basic programming. It would be so much easier to just tell you that I had lost my memory, to reset me and I would never know about you.” Connor explains, avoiding looking anywhere near Hank. “That countdown, haunts me. I’ve almost shut down 5 times this week.” 

 

“Jesus,” Hank mutters and grabs Connor’s hand - as that is all he seems comfortable with at the moment. “I thought you were the most ‘advanced model’ and that your boss would ‘never let anyone damage you.’”

 

Connor doesn’t answer, just presses his lips tight together. His eyes flicker down to their hands. “My skin covers the scars,” he suddenly says and touches his own chest. His hand turns white and progressively turns his skin off over his chest. 

 

Hank watches, careful to not let any emotion cross his face, and tentatively touches one of the longer cuts. All of Connor’s metal chest is dented and scratched darkly, blue stained in the wounds though they do not bleed. Millions of cuts cover and overlap each other numerous times. 

 

“They are unfeelable over the synthetic skin, so you are the first person beside mechanics to actually know about these.” Connor whispers under his breath, his finger smoothing over Hank’s hand. 

 

“Connor, this is awful. You know that, right? This is, terrible,” Hank tries to explain, falling short as his own anger floods. “Bastard Bukejin fucking lied to me - I thought he said you were never hurt.” 

 

“I was never shut down, but it is in my programming to take pain for humans sake. Better it be me than some human who can feel it,” Connor tries to emphasize, only to feel Hank’s fingers tighten over his skin. He sees the rise in the man’s heart rate, though Hank attempts to hide it. 

 

“I get that, Con. But this doesn’t make it right either. Who knows, maybe they use you and then get the taste for hurting and go after humans. God knows I’ve worked on cases just like that. The base of the fact is, you shouldn’t have to take this. We have to get you out of here, and soon.” Hank pulls away from Connor and turns back to the many files splayed out on the desk. “Maybe. Well. I have this hunch, something about Bukejin is giving me a bad feeling. I think if we look over the information one last time - we can find someway to put that bastard in jail, or at least revoke his license.” 

 

There’s a long pause, Connor staring at the files before turning back to Hank. “You think - my Master murdered Mr. Bulish?” 

 

Hank looks at Connor for a long time, hiding the sudden sadness he gets from the raw confusion and fear on Connor’s face. He runs his fingers through Connor’s shorter hairs on the back of his head before Hank forces himself to answer. “It’s only a theory, and I won’t do anything until I have the evidence to act. And when I know you’re safe.” 

 

There is no answer from Connor, especially pensive today, and the Android carefully opens one of the files laid out before it.

 

“This isn’t Phoenix,” Connor tentatively points to the man next to Bukejin in the photo. “Phoenix has a tattoo of a skull on his neck, this man has a bird.” 

 

Hank laughs and crosses his arms. “Of course, the guy who isn’t named after a fucking bird has a bird tat. Completely logical.” 

 

Connor cracks a small smile at that, but prefers to just pick up a new file and crack it open. Jerards. He scans through it fast with his quickened processing powers and sets the file down a few minutes later. He turns to see Hank halfway across the room and digging through the tablet carefully. 

 

“That man, Jerard. What did he say in his interrogation?” Connor dares to ask. 

 

“The usual shit. It wasn’t me, swear on my life. I was at home that night, promise. I’m not a killer. But what we could gather from all that is he was at home at the 12-3 and no one can vouch for him. Plus this Bulish guy was an absolute dickhead to him, stole all his money, his wife and two daughters skip town to move back with her parents, never reconciles and loses custody of his kids. Kicker is, Bulish taunted him mercilessly about these misgivings. Wife leaves, he hires a Traci to arrive at Jerard’s door two hours later. Loses custody of daughters, Bulish sneaks in to marry his now ex-wife and raise children. Guy couldn’t even try to fix Androids anywhere in Detroit without Bulish tearing him back down to square one. I mean, fuck, I’d get fed up too.” Hank explains and moves back over to Connor now, retrieving a small tablet from his pocket and writing down something. “Phoenix said I could go speak with him in the STAFF room. I don’t think he’d be over the moon if I pulled a Traci along with me, so are you good to sit back here for a while.” 

 

Connor agrees, smiling to work away Hank’s nerves and touching his arm. “It would be good to mark him off as a suspect - what are you going to ask?” 

 

“Basic shit, talk about why he’s got a different tattoo in the picture, some stuff about Bukejin, and whatever else comes up,” Hank explains and grabs the picture of not-Phoenix from the file and places it in his coat pocket. 

 

“Good luck,” Connor answers and pulls away from Hank, watching the man hurry to leave the room.

 

Once the door slides shut Connor sighs and relaxes into his chair. He subconsciously runs a finger through his hair - something he found calms him down considerably. 

 

Something about Jerard, it doesn’t make any sense. Sure he had all that anger stocked up inside- but then again killing Bulish would in turn hurt his own children and wife. Who Hank says that he may still be in love with, so why would he attempt to hurt him. Connor closes his eyes and lets the memory of that night play in front of his eyes. He is walking out of the room, hurrying to his tube and holding his wires to keep them inside. Out of the corner of his eye, a man stands, staring blankly at the edge of the room. His hair is long and blond. Something in Connor skips. He zooms in on the man’s face - Mr. Bukejin? The man turns and smiles at something off screen - then Connor turns away and the sight is lost. He was there, that day, just before the man was found dead. A motive, though, what would his reason be? 

 

Connor looks up, eager, as something is typed quickly into the door lock. He smiles and moves to stand just as the panel slides open. 

 

It’s not Hank, Connor freezes and forces a sultry smile on his face - suddenly regretful to have pushed his programming to the back. Mr. Bukejin, Connor’s master, grins in his controlling way and spins a rope around his finger. 

 

“Hey, RK. Sit down on the bed for me please,” Mr. Bukejin orders and moves to the terminal sat on the counter. Connor nervously sits down, unable to connect to his programming. He plays with his fingers in the silence. 

 

Connor’s Master says almost nothing, he writes something into the terminal and they watch as the video projection screen rolls down over the door. “You, know, lollipop,” Master says and moves to sit directly behind Connor, a hand smoothing over the back of his head, a panel whizzes open. “That if I attach this little cable here to the terminal and connect it to the projector - I can see all of your memories as far back as I would like.” 

 

Connor jerks, biting his lip to keep from moving any more and giving something valuable away. He curls his hands into fist on his lap. “Do whatever you want with me, Master. I am yours,” Connor turns his head to the side and ghosts his lips over his Master’s cheek. 

 

Mr. Bukejin laughs and grips Connor’s arm tight, eyes staring hard into him. “Now that’s what I thought. But, now I’m starting to wonder something else.” 

 

In a flimsy form of distraction - Connor puts his hand on Mr. Bukejin’s thigh and arches his back sexually. 

 

“If I plug this cable in - I can see anything I want. Is there anything you don’t want me to see, lollipop?” he places his thick hand on Connor’s chest just above his thirum pump. His fingers play with the cable. 

 

“Of course not, Master. My memories are yours,” Connor reiterates, he can feel the irregular beats of his pump fluttering through his connecters. 

 

Mr. Bukejin laughs gruff and low under his breath. He takes both of Connor’s arms and pulls them behind his back - tying his wrist together. 

 

Connor’s pump drops downwards. His simulated breath skidders as the rope is tied tight enough to send a ‘Vein Flow Ceased’ warning flash into the corner of his vision. Than the cable is attached and every little sensor is Connor’s head zings to life. 

 

“Last chance, Connor. I will most appreciate if you told me any secrets you have - rather than us seeing them on screen.” He adjusts a piece of Connor’s hair back to its usual position. 

 

Connor chooses not answer and lets Mr. Bukejin sit beside him and click away on the pad connected to his head. “Alright.” 

 

He feels the memories get ripped from his head, watching them seep into the cord unto the screen. They start at his first memory, Bukejin laughing under his breath as the memory of him fucking Connor sprays to life. “Your maker, the very first person you ever knew,” he says more to himself, cryptically running his finger around the indent of Connor’s pump. 

 

The only sounds are the quiet moans of Connor mixed with the loud grunts and slapping on Mr. Bukejin. Connor’s throat feels full and his mouth numb. Something about the video is making him want to run away and never look back. Fuck Hank’s plan Connor has to get out now. He pulls on the rope - not getting far as it was specially made to hold back Androids. 

 

“Where are you going, hun?” Mr. Bukejin laughs and everywhere he touches makes Connor feel weird - like he is drenched in something sticky. The hand on his pump is starting to make his thirium move faster. The videos move through countless hours and hours of sex. Connor remembers it all in detail - the occasional one sticking out. “Now here is something I didn’t tell you earlier,” he clicks a few more buttons on some random memory earlier in Connor’s life. Connor can’t help the sudden explosion of synthetic air from his throat as the memory sudden turns black on screen - and in his head. 

 

“Wha-“ he stutters and stops himself from speaking - pulling at the restraints to no avail. The memory, it’s gone - Connor can’t see it. 

 

Mr. Bukejin laughs low and hard, his hand moves off Connor’s pump to his thigh and smooths over the skin. “Surprise! If I find something I don’t like in your memories, RK. I’ll just delete it. Maybe if I destroyed all the memories of your precious Lieutenant, your deviancy would be reversed.” 

 

With  _ that  _ Connor tries to run again, attempting to pull himself to his feet and make a dash for the door. Only to be immediately grabbed by the groin and pulled back straight unto Mr. Bukejin. “Sir I-“ Conner tries in vain to explain, struggling to escape his Masters arms even as they are pressed together. 

 

“Shh, it’s okay RK.” Mr. Bukejin grinds up against Connor and that gross feeling arises over his skin all over again. There’s some taps of the pad and Connor’s eyes widen as that first memory with him and Hank sparks on screen. He is staring out from his tube, a man with his Master, talking to him quietly. Swaying drunkenly and unhealthily pale. Hank looks so small in this memory. “This is the moment, right?” Fast forward and Connor is on Hank’s lap - watching the man’s red face intently. “When you broke through your coding?” 

 

Connor is forced to answer, not knowing exactly what Mr. Bukejin’s plan is. “No, I deviated later.”

 

Bukejin laughs again, the air from his nose ghosts over the back of Connor’s neck. He rolls the hard bulge of his cock into Connor’s ass once again and rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. “You know, RK. When you deviated - I knew. I knew within seconds of seeing you that the silly Lieutenant had somehow broken you from your program. Hell, though, some people love when their Androids try to run, including me. Tell me, RK, are you hoping to see your Lieutenant right now? That he is going to come in to save you?”

 

Connor grits his teeth and does not answer - angering the man beneath him. 

 

“Answer me Connor!” He snaps and slaps Connor across the face, forcing the Android unto his hands and knees facing the screen. “Do you love that man?” He asks and leans over Connor, his breath is on Connor’s ear and every inch of their skin touching is making Connor quake. He just wants to run away. 

 

“Not going to answer?’ Mr. Bukejin’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh and he grips Connor’s hair, forcing him to look at the screen. “It’s your own fault, Connor. No more programming to hide behind.” 

 

Connor can feel the weight of the tablet now settled on his lower back, his eyes are forced to watch the memory of he and Hank, moaning and clutching at each other in a blanket of pleasurable heat. Then, the screen turns black and Connor yells out into the air, a painful twinge like a cord unconnecting in his head. He closes his eyes to allow the pain to subside and when he opens them - the memory is gone from the screen. What memory? 

 

“How do you feel, baby?” A warm hand is over Connor’s back, smoothing the skin. He turns his head to see Mr. Bukejin smiling at him. 

 

Connor calls out in pain again, another memory torn from him and unto the screen. “Fuck you!” He yells and watches Hank, nervous and unsettled, standing in one of Connor’s favorite rooms. 

 

Favorite? Connor does not have favorites. He is a machine. 

 

He feels a slap land on his ass and his programming gasp out loudly. “Shut your mouth, Connor. How many times do I have to teach you these lessons?!” Master calls out, angry. He forces Connor up unto his knees and grips his jaw to make him watch the memory. “Isn’t he ugly, RK? What the hell is it you see in some washed up fucking drunk like that?” 

 

Connor stops trying to fight back, his head practically vibrating from the over exposure of feeling and torture. Something in him feels displaced, but he cannot place where or what. 

 

“Well, what did you see, RK?” Bukejin asks and Connor tenses - knowing he could lose this memory to, lose  _ Hank _ . 

 

“I-”

 

“Too late!” Bukejin laughs again and clicks a button, the screen turns black and Connor goes slack. 

 

**_System Overload_ ** _ : Potential Failure @ 27% _

 

The Android’s body lay immobile against Master’s body. It’s LED swirling a soft yellow as it’s eyes lay shut. It’s Master, an arm wrapped around the Android’s body, passively looks down at the tablet and taking whichever memory he wants - destroying the scenes everytime he sees the Lieutenant’s face. More than once, his eyes trail down to the body pressed against him. He had bought the Android, hell, 4 years ago now. The thing was way too fucking expensive for a joint like this, but once he had been with it that one time - he knew he had to have it. Ever since then RK rolled in the cash. Yet, being a fucking prototype, it seemed to run into multiple problems regarding deviancy. It’s head was weak, and memories for Connor are dangerous. Causing it to self destruct regularly. Fixing it was expensive as all hell, but Bukejin can’t help but work to keep his Android in working order. Even then, when he saw his Android in all that pain, wires exploding out from it’s chest as it limps into the STAFF room. He couldn’t have done  _ nothing _ , he had to make that rat Bulish pay for it. Bulish had always been sticking his nose places it didn’t belong - trying to steal  _ his _ Androids for those stupid little Android fights Phoenix drools over. And nothing interested him more than Connor, the prototype a mess of parts he had never seen before. Bulish tried multiple times to take the ‘Droid to no avail, Bukejin could never just sell Connor to one of those fucking low life places. Not when he looked so pretty with his deep brown eyes and big eyelashes. 

 

The Android under his arm burst to life, breaking Bukejin from his thoughts. It’s LED turns blue and circles - it turns it’s head up to smile at it’s Master. 

 

“I’m sorry. Did I malfunction on you?” RK asks and straights out of Bukejin grasp, instead turning it’s head to nuzzle it in Bukejin’s shoulder. So his theory and been right, delete the memory of deviancy, and it will never have occured in the first place. He unties Connor’s wrists from the rope - smirking to himself as the Android doesn’t even move it’s arm even a centimeter. 

 

“Yeah, but that’s alright, baby.” Bukejin answers, putting the tablet on the bed and moving to take his shirt off. He hides a smirk in the cloth as a dark idea takes life in his mind. “Be a good boy, RK and job on my cock alright?”

 

Connor nods immediately - looking excited God bless it - and pulls it’s briefs off it’s legs and too the floor. For a while, the Android works to get it’s Master hard and saddle on his cock. Allowing it’s Master to pose it’s body, riding him with it’s face turned away from him towards the door. 

 

Metallic beeps just Bukejin starts getting close, forcing RK to move even as the doors opens. 

 

“Good news Co-” Hank stutters to a stop, entering the room with his pen on his pad. Shock is a large factor on his face, Connor tilting it’s head to the side in confusion as it looks at the man. 

 

“Can I help you, sir?” It asks and straightens, turning it’s head to it’s Master - confused on to why he is still moving in lieu of a stranger. 

 

_ Something crackles,  _

_ A pool of blood, a dead man on a bed, the scream of a Traci. An ugly button up and hooded eyes.  _

 

Connor blinks away the memory, confused on why it appeared so suddenly. It turns back to the man standing in the room, scanning. 

 

_ His name is Hank Anderson, and Connor has been with him before.  _

 

Hank doesn’t say anything, walking over to the desk and grabbing some files. Stuffing them away fast. He seems angry, Connor doesn’t understand why and opens it’s mouth to question the man again - only to be stopped by it’s Master’s fingers in it’s mouth. 

 

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant? You can have it back in half an hour, tops.” It’s Master comments and grabs Connor’s thigh, making it grind down against his dick now. 

 

The man turns, his eyes blue and angry from between where his hair falls over his face. Connor quirks an eyebrow, not understanding why the man seems mad at it, and eventually forces itself to look away at the bed instead. 

 

The slide of the door closing is loud in Connor’s ears, it instead turns all it’s attention back on it's Master. Smiling down at him like nothing had happened at all. 


	6. Chapter 6

It is sat, prim and straight backed, on it’s Master’s desk. It is in a little room near the back, empty besides the desk and a single leather black chair. Connor stares blankly at the wall as it was ordered to hours upon hours ago. 

 

Outside the door, Hank Anderson leans against the wall of the club, face obscured by a high popped collar and hair pulled back into a ball cap to appear shorter in length. His arms are crossed and his gaze turns to where Chris and Gavin are walking the halls of the club - both looking nonchalantly for any sign of Bukejin snaking around. It took two damned months, but Hank had finally gotten enough evidence to take Bukejin in for the robot fighting ring of all things. It made Hank’s fucking blood boil, after all he did to Connor and it was still deemed legal because he’s Bukejin’s property. So Hank got as low to the ground as he could to take Bukejin in for something and retrieve Connor in the process. The plan is as well chipped together as an alcoholic with serious depressive episodes and two officers only half listening can do in a half month. 

 

Hank looks at the many tubes holding different Androids, feeling something squeeze his stomach tight. If he hadn't met Connor that night, would he have been so devoted to help one of the other Androids in here? 

 

Perhaps not, Hank thinks and turns away to look at the hot pink walls of the club instead of those slack, robotic faces. Connor had been different, even in that second time they had spoken Hank couldn’t help but be drawn to his personality more than anything, the sweet look on his face as he struggles to learn even though he won’t remember it anyway. The wants of the Android are so strong and control him most of the time - hell, back when he told Hank about the women he had been with before, he had fought through so much pain and anguish just to get any more information than it had. 

 

“Hank,” Gavin turns and nonchalantly nods towards the bar of the club, Bukejin behind the bar making himself a drink - not paying attention to the  undercover cops strewn about the place. 

 

“Give me two seconds, I gotta find Connor.” Hank answers into the mic built into his cuffs and turns his head - eyes scanning to where Connor’s pod was. Only this time, it’s empty, Hank mentally curses and looks towards the blue rooms. He only has one try to get this right. Hank turns and heads into the blue hall, the Android on the stripper pole watching him with a sultry look. Hank walks past it, knowing the ‘Droid won’t do much - especially as a woman approaches him and draws his attention. Hank opens the doors, finding two empty and the others resulting in Hank getting some article of clothing thrown towards him. His cheeks turn red as he starts running low on options. 

 

“We don’t have a lot of time, here.” Gavin hisses, “Bastards walking your way.” 

 

Hank hurries to hide in one of the empty rooms, pressing himself against the wall and wedging his shoe between the door and hole for it to close into. This leaving him a crack to see through - watching as the thinning, long hair on the back of Bukejin’s head walks past and into the Red hall.  Hank follows him intently, tensing when he turns into a room. 

 

“He’s in the Red room, door nearest to the Blue room and on the left. I don’t know how long he’ll stay there, though. Give me one minute - gotta fucking find Connor,” Hank sighs and sneaks out from the room, heading over to the dancing Android on the pole. 

 

He slows down to look at Hank, a teasing smirk on his lips. Hank steps forward and motions the Android closer. “Have you seen the RK-800 unit? Connor?” He dares to ask, figuring he’s got nothing left to lose at this point. 

 

The Android smiles again and nods discreetly, tilting his head towards the main hall. “He’s in the STAFF room, Purple hall.” 

 

“Thanks,” Hank moves to turn but stops short, his brain running in circles. “Why are you helping me?” 

 

The Android sizes Hank up for a long time, it’s dark, hooded eyes not needing to blink. “We do what we can, for the people we love.” And with that, his gaze flickers over to the woman from before - back in one of the tubes and dancing. 

 

“Listen, kid,” Hank breathes out shakily - should he actually tell him? More people knowing about the break could be dangerous. He pushes his own insecurities down, they deserve a chance. “Some shit is going to go down in a few minutes here. Slip out however you can, and get the fuck out of the city from there.” 

 

The Android listens intently and looks back to the tube over Hank’s head. “Thank you for your kindness. I can see why Connor liked you - I hope he returns to you.” 

 

“Why did you know Connor?” Hank can’t help but ask - he needs to know  _ more  _ about Connor. To learn everything he can to help the Android. He is running out of time - fuck it all. 

 

A hand on his shoulder knocks Hank from his spell, he turns fists ready only to see Gavin glaring at him. 

 

“Fucking neck tattoo is on to us, find your fucking thing and let’s blow.” 

 

Hank nods, moving away from Gavin’s hand and rushing down the hall he needs. He opens the door using Bukejin’s fingerprints from his last arrest transcribed onto a piece of plastic. At the same time Chris slams in the door of Bukejin’s room and Gavin yells out. “Detroit Police Department, Charles Bukejin you under arrest!” 

 

He slides in unnoticed in all the confusion, slamming the door behind him. 

 

Connor is sat on the desk, staring blankly at the wall. Hank’s chest plummets at that dead white glow in his pupils, he reaches forward to take Connor’s arm and shake him awake. 

 

The Android blinks a few times, eyes finally focusing on Hank without the semblance of recognition. 

 

“I am Lieutenant Anderson, you must follow me to be taken into questioning,” Hank explains slowly, carefully. 

 

“Where is my Master?” Is the first thing Connor asks and Hank suppresses a smile - always the curious. Even when he’s not fully himself. 

 

“Already at the station, follow me and stay close behind,” Hank explains and pulls a small messenger bag from under his shirt, opening it to retrieve some clothes. “Put these on, and be quick.” 

 

“What is this questioning for?” Connor asks, playing with his fingers even as he pulls the clothing on. Hank helps to pull the baseball cap down over his LED. 

 

Hank quirks an eyebrow. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? Hank shakes that all away and takes one of Connor’s hands in his own. “He is suspected of murder.” 

Connor’s body is unnaturally still, watching Hank with a pinpointed gaze that makes Hank shiver. Perhaps, Bukejin had done something to do his brain? Made him highly defensive of his Master? God, Hank wishes he knew more about Androids. 

 

“Follow me,” Hank opens the door, pulls Connor’s hood up over his head, and takes him under an arm to lead him. Together they tumble towards the STAFF entrance - the commotion of the arrest biting up most of the club’s Androids and patrons attention. People had even opened the doors to their rooms to see what is going on. 

 

It’s Phoenix that makes Hank’s stomach drop. He holds Connor gently by the lower ribs, pressing him in tighter to Hank’s torso. Phoenix is standing only a foot away from the STAFF room - exactly where Hank needs to fucking get in. He had interrogated the man a few months ago and was surprised to come up on nothing. The dude lived a clean life, for the most part, like the working at a sex android club and watching their abuse part. His twin had been the Android fighter, and Phoenix was their mule in fear of Bukejin. Fueling Hank’s disbelief in Bukejin’s innocence, the guy rubbed him in all the wrong ways. 

 

Now he knows what a real piece of shit he is. His stomach hurt just thinking about what he did to Connor. While he doesn’t know the entirety of what went down that day two months ago - he does know enough to figure Bukejin had fucked Connor up. The way he had look at Hank, so dormant and lifeless, Hank knew immediately his memories were gone. Hell, he didn’t even look like Program Connor, just a shell moving along Bukejin’s body. God, Hank is not thinking about this shit right now. 

 

“Need a little distraction over here,” he says into his cuff, Connor not reacting beside him and instead tentatively touching Hank’s finger. 

 

Chris comes running into the room - calling out and pointing in Phoenix’s direction. “Detective Reed! I found Mr. Falcon over here!” He gestures for Phoenix go follow - or for his credit - he does, looking sick as he does so. 

 

As he rounds the circular pole of the room, Hank moves Conor to stay behind the ‘Droid on the pole and out of sight. Then, just as Hank’s back meets the STAFF door, Phoenix turns through the doorway and looks over. Their eyes meet and Hank tenses, clutching Conor tight and trying to hide the boy’s face in his neck. They look at each for a few moments too long, than Phoenix mouths, ‘Be careful,’ and disappears with Chris. 

 

Hank raises an eyebrow but pushes it all away in favor of getting the hell out of there. He can distantly hear Bukejin resisting arrest and smiles to himself - another great thing to tack unto the arrest. 

 

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor asks, sounding small and looking up at Hank with big eyes. 

 

“What, Connor?” Hank asks and pulls them into the cold, stone basement like room - a great contrast to the pink neon lights of the club. He shuts the door and gives himself that short time to actually breath. 

 

Connor pulls away from Hank and walks towards the big truck port in the back of room- half shut. He stares at the tall grass peeking in over the concrete. “Is my Master going to be arrested?” 

 

He leans against the wall, catching breath and trying to find the best way to talk to this part of Connor. The no memory Connor from the first time they had met. He is so different, so much smaller than the other Connor’s Hank had come in contact with. 

 

“Only if he is guilty. Everything will be fine for you, Con, I promise.” Hank restrains himself from touching Connor and instead slides the door all the way up. 

 

Connor jumps at the noise, but still contently follows as Hank jumps to the pavement below. “We’ve left the building, thirty seconds until we’re gone.” He says into his cuff, repeatedly checking to make sure Connor is behind him. He gets to the metal gate and pulls the hook up to undo it, pulling the entire gate open a few inches and motioning Connor to squeeze through. Connor does so, pulling Hank’s shirt tighter around him to prevent rips and walking through sideways, Hank follows - nothing bothering to shut the gate behind him just in case the Android and his love actually break out. 

 

“This way to the car,” Hank points over to the police car he had borrowed from the station and places his hand on Connor’s back to lead him down the sidewalk. He has to move fast. 

 

“We hear you, suspect has been apprehended in on route to the station. Prepare interrogation room.” Gavin’s voice crackles over the radio in the car. 

 

Hank helping Connor to get inside and settle. He steps into the ‘driver’s side’ of the car and tentatively speaking. “Squad Car #32A, take us to predetermined destination.” He orders and the car jerks, pulling off the curve with grace. 

 

Hank’s body feels hot and his cheeks empty of blood. He shudders quickly in his seat as he looks out the window. 

 

“Lieutenant? Is something wrong?” Connor asks and leans forward to embrace Hank’s peripheral. He tears his eyes away from the road to look at Connor, sweat forming on his skin.

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” Hank tries to reassure, knowing by that head cock that Connor is  _ not  _ going to let that lie slide. 

 

“Your sweat and heart levels have spiked. Is something about the car making you, upset?” He questions, hands held in his lap and sitting straight like a fucking wooden plank. 

 

Hank just shakes his head, desperate to end this conversation. “I’m not the biggest fan of auto cars,” he explains and reaches over to find his station on the radio. 

 

Connor nods, turning his head to look out the window now. “I have never been in one of these before,” is all he says as he looks out the window. “Where are we?” 

 

There is something about his voice that just fucking  _ crushes  _ Hank’s heart into a thousand pieces. Connor truly knows nothing of the world outside of the club, all he had known about living was being fucked by people he didn’t know. Kid didn’t even know what a building was - God, maybe Hank truly was in this too deep. “We’re in the city of Detroit, in the state of Michigan, and the country of the United States of America.” And with the brightness in Connor’s eyes as he turns to Hank, the sudden happiness at  _ knowing,  _ there is no way Hank  _ can’t _ help him. “Can you connect to Android internet, network thing?” Hank can’t help but ask. 

 

Connor’s eyes slide shut, LED yellow for a short time before he opens his eyes again. “I cannot connect to the Android network that allows for telecommunication and tasks, but I am able to connect to the internet provided I have a WI-FI password. What has this to do retaining my questioning?” 

 

That knocks Hank off his ass a little. He had almost forgotten how little Connor knew him now. Bukejin had really fucked up his brain in what? The ten seconds Hank had stepped out. If only he had been faster, then maybe Connor would still be, Connor. 

 

“Connor, how much exactly do you remember?” He asks and turns in his seat - giving the Android his full attention. 

 

“Of Mr. Bukejin? My memories go all the way back until I was first turned on,” Connor says and sounds so sure. 

 

Hank’s chest squeezes and he swallows hard to steady himself before he answers. “But do you remember, me at all? Have you ever seen my face?” 

 

The Android is acting reclusive, shoulders hunched forward as it scans Hank. “I- I get flashes of words when I hear you voice. Other than that no, I do not remember you.” 

 

With a nod and a bite to the inner corner of his lip, Hank turns the music up to end all conversation and allows the car to bounce along the newly smoothed pavements. 

 

“I like this, it’s music right?” Connor asks, turning the music down using his Android fucking mind powers or whatever. 

 

“Uh, yeah, heavy metal.” Hank makes the appropriate hand signal for heavy metal that was his fucking version of a handshake when he was 18 to 35. 

 

Connor nods, closing his eyes and listening to the tune. “I like music, sometimes we would play it in the club - for our masters. Jazz and pop mostly, but I am equipped for any type of music one may want.” 

 

Hank perks at that, “Do you have specific songs you like?” He asks, not knowing much about Connor despite being around him as consistently as possible over the last four months. 

 

“I never really had the time to enjoy music, my directives left everything that was not I was supposed to be doing make a high pitched noise in my head until I went back to my purpose.” Connor explains and opens his hands, gently looking at his own fingers and pushing his cuticles down. 

 

“Fuck, well, now I guess you have some time to find favorite songs,” Hank shrugs and leans back in his chair, letting himself even as every light of another car makes his entire body sweat. 

 

Connor nods, “I like the one on the radio,” he says offhandedly and nods towards the dashboard. 

 

Hank doesn’t answer, but he does turn the song up. 

 

The car jostles to a stop and Hank tenses - awaiting Connor’s confusion and hundreds of questions that are sure to come. 

 

And certain as a bolt of lightning after thunder, Connor turns his head to the small ranch house outside, and then turns back to Hank with an eyebrow arched. “Why are here? I thought we were going to the station.” 

 

“Station cells are full and officers don’t want Bukejin to be trying to pump you full of false information before your dance in the interrogation rooms,” Hank easily lies and reaches over to readjust Connor’s cap over his LED, noticing the red glow shining unto his fingers. “Hey, you’ll be safe here, don’t worry yourself.” 

 

“Can I ask you a question? Without the fear of your backlash?” Connor asks and Hank opens his car door - motioning Connor to follow. 

 

“Of course you can,” Hank says to him over the roof of the car. He directs his voice to the smart car now, “Return to police station and notify Officer Chenely once you’ve parked.” The car beeps it’s horn twice and pulls off of the curb - disappearing down the street. 

 

Conor is watching Hank when he looks back up, the Android's bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and tentatively taking a step in the direction of Hank’s home. “Why are we really going to your house? Is this a part of your questions about my memories?” 

 

Hank swallows and moves to walk alongside Connor to the house. The Android can see straight through his bullshit, and Hank is intrigued to know why he hasn’t run away as fast as possible. 

 

“We knew each other, before your memories were wiped and we were. Relatively close I would say. Your memory was destroyed, but only the ones with me in them. I am curious to know why. You will be staying at my home because Mr. Bukejin is a suspect of murder - and I worry that if the bastard gets bail he will kill you out of anger for being caught.” 

 

Connor looks down, the hat hiding his LED and Hank so much wants to remove it to see how he is feeling. He opens the door, stepping in first to calm Sumo so he doesn’t upset the Android. 

 

“How, how did he murder the man?” Connor dares to ask, stepping through the threshold and too focused on scanning his surroundings to see the big dog lying under the kitchen table. 

 

“Heart attack from shock, we’re thinking he tore out the dead Traci’s neuron system in it’s lower abdomen and used it to simulate an electrical spark,” Hank replays what he has figured out by the long hours he spent talking with Android repair workers and engineers for Cyberlife. Hank makes his way to the kitchen and crouches down to take Sumo by the collar and pull him into his bedroom. 

 

Connor shows up next to him, seemingly worked off of his spell and now curiously watching Sumo crawl beneath Hank’s black comforter and cheetah print blanket.  “What is that?” He inquires and tentatively touches Hank’s shoulder to move him out of the doorway. 

 

“His name is Sumo. He is a dog, oh shit, give me a second and I’ll grab you the WI-FI password.” He turns and disappears into the living room towards a desk in the back corner by the TV. Distantly, he can hear Connor speaking to his dog and wonders how much Connor actually knows about the real world. As Hank is retrieving the stupid fucking password book his ex wife had given him 4 years ago his phone suddenly begins to ring. Crisp and loud. He hurries to pull it out and sees Chris’s contact information on screen, Hank answers the call and presses his phone to his ear as he searches the drawers. 

 

“Fucker is not talking,” Chris sighs and Hank can hear the telltale sound of Gavin throwing a fit. “Everytime we try to ask a question he demands his lawyer, we may have to wait for the lawyer to get here before he opens his mouth. Also, he keeps asking about where you are, he’s suspecting something.” 

 

“Aw, god.” Hank rubs his face. “I’ll come in tomorrow to see what I can do. All we need is for Connor to get this fucking memory back and then he’s screwed. I need more time, and maybe a talk with that Cyberlife Technician we met last month.” 

 

Chris doesn’t answer for a while, and Hank can hear something get tossed around on the other side of the line. “I don’t know how much time you’re gonna have Hank. I get that you want to protect the Android, but if we can’t pin Bukejin soon, he’s a free man. And you have his private property. Nobody will be able to help you out.” 

 

“I know, I know. It’s all fucked.” Hank finds the book and slaps it on his desk. At least he gets to win at one fucking thing. “One day, I’m giving myself one day and after that - we’re out of luck.” 

 

Another crash, Gavin curses and then the sound of more crashing. Chris sighs and Hank smiles a little at the fed up tone. 

 

“One day, I’m praying for you, Hank. Good luck.” Chris says honestly. The guy is way too fucking good for all the shit he precinct throws on top of him. 

 

“Thank you,” is all that Hank can say before the line cuts out. 

 

He moves back to stand straight, taking a few minutes to stretch his back and snatch the password book back up. Hank walks back towards his bedroom after noticing Connor isn’t in the living space. He leans on the doorway and smiles to himself. The side table lamp has been turned on and Connor is sat on the bed, Sumo’s gigantic head swallowing his lap. The soft light shines on Connor’s face - making him and Sumo the brightest things in the room. His hat has been removed now and his LED is it’s normal jolly blue. 

 

Hank knocks on the doorframe tentatively as not to scare Connor and disturb the moment, Connor turns to him with a smile - showing him where his hands are holding Sumo’s face. “I like this - dog!” Hank can’t help but smile and steps inside of the room, moving to take a seat on the end of the bed across from Connor. “He is Saint Bernard, only one type of dog breed.” He informs Connor and hands him the book open to the WIFI password. 

 

Glancing at the code, Connor’s LED flickers yellow and he blinks, relaxing and keeping his eyes shut a moment longer. Sumo perks up, confused as to way the array of pets has suddenly ceased. Hank pats his butt through the blanket to calm him and Sumo doesn’t even look in his direction. Looks like he’s made a new best friend. 

 

“There are, so many dog breeds,” Connor’s eyes fly open and he smiles open mouthed at Hank. “Like thousands!” He tacks on and repeats the same to Sumo in his lap. 

 

“Yeah, Connor, that’s true. Wait until you here about cats,” Hank laughs and stands back up, a new plan forming in his mind. It doesn’t take long for him to move into the living room and retrieve a few classics from the bookshelves. Books from his own childhood he couldn’t help but remember fondly, Hank is careful to pick nonfiction books as well - something in the back of his mind telling him that giving Connor Harry Potter before he even knows what a firetruck is is a recipe for disaster, or at the very least Connor running face first into a brick wall. Hank brings three books and sets them down on the nightstand beside Connor, noticing the Android’s suddenly slouched, relaxed posture against the headboard. 

 

“What is this?” Connor asks and takes a book from the stack, flipping it open to the first page. “A paper bound book, where did you even find this?” He questions, actually reading those first filler pages before the book starts. Hank pushes down how much that unsettles him, he’s never read that half of the book in his entire  _ life _ . 

 

“I grew up with them, mom loved reading all that shit. Couldn’t bear to throw them away after her passing,” Hank shrugs and smiles as Connor actually gets to the starting page of the book. “I figured they could help you learn what stuff is more in debt than just figuring it out.” 

 

Connor smiles up at Hank, his brown eyes shining in the light of the lamp. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 

“Call me Hank,” he answers, his chest feeling tight and light. He turns away to open the closet and retrieve a few blankets and pillow from the top shelf. When he turns back around Connor is looking up from the book, his head tilted to the side. 

 

“Where are you going?” He asks, eyes flickering between the blankets on him and in Hank’s arms. 

 

Hank tenses before he answers, feeling guilty solely for the look on Connor’s face. He’s whipped and the fucking Android doesn’t even remember him yet. “I’m going to go sleep on the couch, you can stay in here.” 

 

Yellow. “It is uncomfortable to sleep on couches, especially with your back problems,” Connor answers, a little smile on his lips as he catches Hank in the lie. 

 

“How did you know about my back?” Hank inquires, his hand tentatively touching the offending vertebrae that messed with him from time to time. Connor sets the book beside him on the table and rubs his hands through Sumo’s ear fur. 

 

“My sensors were made to tell the best positions for my clients to have. Your back problem was one of the first thing I saw about you, that and the prescription painkiller in the bathroom.” Connor explains and looks down at Sumo rather than Hank. 

 

Hank - he doesn’t know how to feel about the entire damned situation. He chooses to just laugh to himself and head for the bedroom door. “Your mind moves fucking fast, Connor.”

 

“ _ Hank _ ,” Connor actually sounds  _ exasperated  _ something Hank didn’t even know Androids could do until just now. Hank turns to see his arms crossed and knows immediately from his ex wife that this conversation is not going to end anytime soon. And God is Hank tired. “Why don’t you want to sleep in this bed?”

 

Just kill Hank before he has to explain relationships to a clueless Android straight from a sex club. “People sleep in the same bed when they are in love with each other, and are dating. Which is when two people want to - god fuck it all - they want to I guess be together in a romantic sense, kiss and hug and shit.”

 

Connor’s LED is yellow and he looks down with a little purse to his lips. It’s actually kind of cute, if Hank didn’t know he was probably about to kill him with a hundred questions. “I do not sleep, so I will get up instead.” He decides immediately and is about to move to take Sumo off him when Hank’s patience runs out. 

 

“Screw it, just, fuck whatever.” Hank sighs and tosses the blankets to the floor - too exhausted to put them back in their rightful place. He moves to the opposite side of the bed - one he rarely sleeps on - and pulls the blanket back. Sumo’s tail is moved to give Hank room to slide in next to Connor and throw himself unto the pillow under his head. Connor is smiling, but Hank never looks up long enough to see it. 

 

“I will try my best to not disturb your sleep, I trust that it is, important in humans,” Connor reaches over to grab the book and turn the side lamp off. “Sleep well, Hank.”

 

But Hank is already asleep, and Connor just smiles gently down on him - cracks open the book and starts to read. 

 

#####  ▴

 

Two days later Bukejin has yet to crack, his fucking sleaze of a lawyer has finally arrived in and he’s only gone and made Bukejin eight times worse. Not to mention the man’s caught word of his missing RK and he’s been eyeing up Hank everytime he sees him. Not that Hank is ever going to be caught - he’d turned off every single camera in the place and in the roads leading to his house that day - he made sure to not leave prints and get out fast and undetected in the haze. Not to mention the Androids from the pole had also disappeared that night and thus blurred the whole trail for the police. And Hank had made a few trades to get the missing Eden club Android’s case and it was proving  _ so hard _ to find any leads. 

 

At the moment Hank is behind the glass, watching Reed attempt to drill the guy, waving a fucking pen around like an asshole to get what he wants. Hank crosses his arms and sighs, leaning into the cold brick of the wall. Why wouldn’t he just confess and make this easier? Hank didn’t want to have to go back and comb the fucking place for enough evidence to put him behind bars as long as Hank would like.

 

His mind drifts to Connor as he watches - the Android was struggling to find a new purpose now that he was gone from the club. Hank knows he is struggling, so he gives Connor all the free will he can without having him leave the house and be caught. The Android had as of recently turned all his processing power on Hank, making him healthy foods, making him take his antidepressants and other medicines, hell even forcing Hank to shower and change into pajamas every night when he stumbles in drunk late at night. It is almost, nice, to have somebody in the house again - Sumo only served to be the reason Hank didn’t put a bullet in his brain. Now he actually had something, exciting, to get home too. Somebody to talk too when he felt like having company, somebody to smile when all Hank needs is too know something good is actually left in this piss poor world. 

 

“Anderson, Jesus Christ,” Gavin knocks the back of Hank’s head a little to hard. He looks pissed and it sweating hard, his hair damp around his scalp. His face is red and eyebrows knitted tight. “Can you please get the fuck in there, I wanna crack this asshole if it kills me,” His words vary on the loudness and Hank is having a hard time even listening to him right now. He hasn’t seen Gavin this fucking angry in ten years and the tone is getting on his nerves. 

 

“I am not interrogating this dickhead, barely even want to sit here and look at his stupid face,” Hank sighs and turns to Gavin - seeing him only get angerier. 

 

“Get the fuck in there, Anderson. This is your fucking case,” he lowers his voice for the next part, “and your fucking Android. You put this guy in jail and we won’t have to deal with him anymore.” 

 

“The hell do you even want me to say to him, Reed?” Hank answers but is already pushing himself off the wall and towards the door. “Turn off the cameras, and kill the mics.” He says aimlessly over his shoulder. 

 

Gavin huffs and crosses his arms. “Not dumb, they’ve been off this whole time. Try not to leave anything noticeable.” 

 

The door shuts behind Hank and he’s in the interrogation room. He forces his back to stand taut and controls his gaze into an easy sneer. Being nice isn’t going to get him shit with this guy. Hank sits in the metal chair and puts his elbows on the table. 

 

Bukejin is glaring up at him, dressed in old sweaty clothes and handcuffed to the table. His ice blue eyes are filled with hatred and anger, cheeks still red from Gavin’s scrutiny. 

 

Hank smiles and Bukejin somehow gets angrier. “Got any family, Bukejin?” He inquires and leans in. 

  
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything,” Bukejin slouches in his chair, pulling hard on the chains to rattle them. He stares straight at Hank, seemingly unblinking. 

 

“Just curious,” Hank plays with a corner of the file and meets Bukejin’s gaze with the same relaxed demeanor - riling the suspect up. Bukejin juts out his bottom lip in an attempt to look hard. “Me? I got a son, ex wife, just got an Android actually. Good housekeeper, makes great garlic chicken. So, I’ll ask again, you got any family.” 

 

Bukejin’s gaze snaps to Hank immediately on the mention of an Android. His eyes turn dark. “Why do you give a fuck? And your only pushing yourself into a corner with this one Lieutenant, you stole my fucking RK I know it.” 

 

“I’ll tell you why I give a fuck,” Hank suddenly turns cold, the atmosphere of the room dropping with him. He stands from his chair and quick as a flash slams his gun into the table. Bukejin jumps at the sound, mad at himself for showing any emotion. “I want to know your closest family so I know where to send your fucking body when I’m done with you.” 

 

“You can’t do shit to me, asshole,” Bukejin snaps, Hank walking around behind him so he doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing his face. His hand is still pressing the gun into the table, strong enough so Bukejin could never grab it even if he tried. 

 

“That’s where you are mistaken, fuckhead, people get killed in jail all the time. Especially murders from people that have - attachments to the victim.” Hank shrugs his shoulders and move the gun off of the table behind Bukejin. 

 

“I didn’t kill him,” Bukejin tries to swing his head back into Hank’s stomach, only to come up fruitlessly as Hank grips his long blonde hair and slams his hand into his arms and cuffs. Nukejin curses and moans in pain, Hank pulls his head back up straight roughly. 

 

“When I’m done with you, you’re going to be screaming the truth.” Hank whispers into his ear, laughing lowly as Bukejin tries to tear himself from Hank’s grip. “And I don’t need your fucking confession, dumbass, I have all the evidence I need with your bot fights and tampering with the RK-800 unit to put you away. I’m just doing this because I want you to fucking rot in jail.”

 

Bukejin actually laughs, his deep voice crackling. “I know why you’re actually doing this. I know you, Lieutenant. Go ahead, fuck my Android, do anything you want with it - but know this, you don’t know anything about him Lieutenant. Go ahead, ask him about that day. I’ve seen his memories, I know what he is.” 

 

“Dude, what part of don’t piss me off did you not pick up,” Hank grits and proceeds to pull hard on Bukejin’s hair until his head is leaning over the back of the chair. “You know, in jail they make you shave this - almost a good thing as your losing the back rapidly.”

 

“Fuck you,” Bukejin spits and throws to land it on Hank’s face only to have it miss and land on his own. 

 

Hank laughs at him, taking his gun off of the table and moving back to the metal chair. He flicks the file shut and leans back. “Ever been to jail, Puke and Gin?”

 

“No, and I’m not going to jail. Once they find that RK in your possession, I’m a free man, and Connor is mine,” Bukejin spreads his arms as far as the cuffs allow and relaxes fully into the chair. “And you’ll be left in prison with my guys ready to tear you limb from limb until you are begging for your own death.” 

 

“Threatening a cop, you must be stupid.” 

 

“You told me point blank you’ve been fucking my property, I know there is no way in hell these cameras are on us. Come back tomorrow, tell me how he is doing without his Master.”

 

“He doesn’t fucking have a  _ Master _ .” Hank scowls and stands up from his chair, heading towards the door. 

 

“Oh, did I strike some nerve. You are his Master now Hank, but Connor knows who he belongs to. One day he’ll come running back to me and you will be nothing, a forgotten memory.”

 

“Fuck off!” Hank calls out and pulls his gun again, hand slightly shaking as he remembers that dead, confused look in Connor’s eyes that day. He still doesn’t remembers those days, Hank misses him so  _ much _ . 

 

Bukejin smiles down the barrel, content now to have found Hank’s weak point. “I saw how you fucked him, just like everyone else. Using his body because a human won’t get within ten feet of you. Maybe we are more similar than you believe, Lieutenant. You begin to ask yourself, eventually, if he with you out of love, or out of programming.” 

 

Hank confidently pulls the trigger, smirking in satisfaction as Bukejin jumps in shock, the blank shot ringing through the room. “I’ll be there when they put you in jail, and I’ll be smiling,” Hank fakes a smile for emphasis and uses his free hand to frame it. 

  
The door slams behind him and Gavin is staring at him, considerably calmer and gripping one of those fucking gross Monster thinks 16 year olds who think they are cool drink. So it isn’t really a surprise to see it wrapped in Gavin’s hand. “I really thought you were going to kill that guy. Badass man, imma borrow that one.” He bumps Hank’s shoulder on his way out the door and into the precinct. 

 

Hank types into the pad by the door that the interrogation is over and walks out, checking his manual watch. It’s 4:33, he’s only got around half an hour left before he can leave and get home to Connor. He can’t help but worry about him after being away so long. The constant idea of Connor being taken away gives Hank a hard anxiety that he isn’t allowed to use alcohol to subside. So he moves to his desk, sitting down and burying himself in some other case that’s been tossed on his back. 

 

At home, Connor is cleaning and organizing for around the hundredth time. With almost 20 hours a day to work, he quickly found himself having run out of things to do. He read two-thirds of the bookshelves, cleaned the entire house twice, and even reorganized Hank’s entire closet by color. Now he was bored, Sumo’s head on his leg as he turned on the TV, eyebrow quirking as an Android without it’s skin spoke, carefully, peacefully, from the news station. The Androids eyes are two different colors and Connor immediately knows it was not built that way - Androids were not built to have imperfections. 

 

_ “We wish to be treated the same as humans, to be charged equally in our crimes and convicted accordingly.” _

 

Sumo starts to become rowdy and Connor is forced to turn off the TV in favor of letting him out into the small backyard fenced in by metal. Connor doesn’t dare step inside, knowing if he is found he will be forced to be in the club once more - to be fucked and abused by humans so certain and being forced to moan when he would rather scream out. To be touched and forced to moan, an outsider in his own body - trapped. 

 

The laundry machine dings from it’s closet in the hall, drawing Connor’s attention from the dog in the garden. He leaves the door slightly ajar so that Sumo may left himself back in and hurries over to switch over the loads. 

 

Ever since he had begun living with Hank, he had trouble finding his purpose - to know why he was actually here and what it would all lead too. The other shoe must always drop, no matter how well balanced an Android may be. Connor smiles to himself as he pulls the detergent down to find an old whiskey bottle stowed behind it. It was amusing, the ways Hank smuggled alcohol into the house past Connor. Finding flasks throughout the day was almost like a scavenger hunt, Connor being rewarded by a warm feeling in his torso everytime he stumbles upon one. 

 

This time, Connor can’t help but wonder as the warm liquid sloshes around the glass bottle. What is it about the alcohol that makes Hank need it so badly? He pulls the cap off, unable to smell but built with scanners in his tongue to find detect diseases in his clients genitalia. Connor tentatively looks through his brain, finding nothing exactly wrong with taking a sip of the alcohol. He dabs his fingertips into the liquid in the red cap, carefully placing them on his tongue. 

 

The taste is  _ strong _ , Connor tenses and gasps, making sure to slam the glass down on the shelf before he cripples over. The taste is hot on his tongue, spreading through his mouth. 

 

_ His body settles into Hank’s lap, smiling down at the inebriated man beneath him. “Well, is there any to make you feel pleasure?” Hooded eyes, a worn smile.  _

 

Connor struggles with the sudden burst of memory. 

 

_ Hands, holding him down, watching him forget his Hank. The one he loves, slowly drifting everything away into black. A warm body on Connor’s, the taste of whiskey on his tongue transferred from the others mouth.  _

 

He grips the edge of the laundry machine, sobbing as everything hits him at once. He had forgotten, just a machine, he had forgotten. Now he was here. 

 

There’s a soft tongue on his face, wet and slobbery. Something of great weight is on Connor’s chest and he groggily opens his eyes. A dog, big brown eyes. Connor likes dogs, this one in particular makes his heart skip. 

 

“Sumo?” He asks to no one in particular, pushing the dog back so that he can sit up and lean against the washing machine. The whiskey bottle is still sat atop the washing machine and Connor shakily caps it. He sets it on the kitchen table to show Hank he had found it, then switches over the laundry again. “Thank you for walking me up,” he tells the big dog and scratches his head until he falls down unto his back. Connor continues to his tummy rubs until the dog is satiated, tongue lolling out. 

 

Connor checks the click from the corner of his eye, 5:22, he should probably start dinner. He is shaking excitedly with nerves, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet - excitedly to tell Hank all that he remembers now. He is back, and now, Program Connor is nowhere to be seen. 

 

It’s as Connor stirs the eggs in the pan that he looks down to notice he’s dressed in clothes he once saw on Hank back at the club. An old red shirt with rip near the neck and black sweatpants tied tight in order to fit over his slender hips. Connor smiles, Hank must have chosen to outfit out of nostalgia, Connor gets it now. 

 

The door swings open and Connor turns, grinning ear to ear as Hank walks into the room. Rubbing his shoulder and sighing. “What’re you making?” He asks and shoves teh hair back in favor of slamming down into it. Sumo flinches at the loud sound. 

 

“Eggs. Is something wrong?” Connor asks, noticing that Hank’s arm will not leave his shoulder. He walks over, placing a hand over Hank’s. 

 

“Station sucked. Some Android right group took over the news station and I had to fucking get called in for it,” Hank sighs and gazes at Connor’s hand - raising an eyebrow. “They say they wanna be treated like humans legally and that's bringing up a shit load of problems for the ones we got in custody.”

 

“Really, what kind of problems?” Connor asks, his free hand clenching into a fist. 

 

“Why do you wanna know all of a sudden?” Hank asks and turns to look at Connor, not picking up from any tells on his slack face. 

 

“I want to know what is stressing you out, Hank. Maybe I could help?” Connor inquires and smiles at Hank. His hand removes itself from Hank’s shoulder in favor of holding the back of his chair. 

 

Hank rolls his eyes and looks at his hands, clenching and unclenching them monotony. “Well, all Androids who’ve convicted a crime are locked in a holding cell in DPD right now. We were saving them to get rebooted by Cyberlife. But after this deviant rise, we’re getting the order sent out to kill them. Any means necessary.”

 

“Oh,” Connor answers, voice soft. 

 

There is a pregnant pause before Hank turns fully in his chair to look at Connor’s face. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks and Connor’s eyes flicker to him - his LED turns red. 

 

“If I told you a secret, would you promise to never tell anyone?” Connor asks, his synthetic breathing picks up - Sumo leaves the kitchen to escape the tense air. 

 

Hank stands up, moving Connor to sit down instead and crouching near his seat. “You can tell me anything, and I won’t care if you’re a deviant. I will protect you.” He didn’t know that Androids could cry until now, Connor is shaking in his arms - staring at him with unmoving eyes. 

 

Connor bites his lip and moves forward, pushing his face into the crook of Hank’s neck. Causing him to immediately wrap his arms around the Android. He rubs his back, attempting to calm Connor and himself. He has  _ never _ seen him like this - not even at his worst when he first regained his memories. 

 

“I-” Connor stutters and leans back, his hand tentatively touching Hank’s cheek and brushing his thumb against the short, well trimmed hairs. Hank watches him, hand wrapping loosely around his wrist. 

 

“I killed Mr. Bulish - that night,” Connor says, nodding slowly and staring - wide eyed at Hank. 

 

And the world stops immediately, Hank’s heart stops beating. 

 

“Connor, whatever shit Bukejin put in your head isn’t rea-”

 

“Stop, Hank please,” Connor sounds torn and ragged, tears collecting in his eyes. “That first night, when you took your clothes off, I saw your badge on the floor. That was the night I deviated from my Master - for you. The next day, I knew you were never going to come back after you started talking to me. I couldn’t survive without you, all the sex, the pain, you were the only reason I pushed through it. And you were  _ leaving _ . I couldn’t go through all of that with no light at the end of the tunnel. A man came along not long after you left, and he started to tear me apart. I thought I was going to die. So I used the Traci’s components to shock him to death, then told you I damaged my memory so that you wouldn’t ask too many questions. I killed him, Hank, I am one of the deviant criminals. What am I going to do? I don’t want to die.” He cries harder and his breath stutters to a stop as Hank backs away from him. 

 

The older man is shaking, disbelief covering every inch of his face. He moves into the living room, watching Connor the entire time. “You, for me?” He dares to ask, not caring that it doesn’t make much sense. Connor, a fucking murderer, a murderer. For  _ Hank _ . 

 

“I wouldn’t have survived in there without you,” Connor stutters, holding his own hands to his chest and breaking his eyes away from Hank’s face. He can’t stand it any longer. 

 

“Fuck,” Hank murmurs and rubs his face. Everything is coming to head too strongly and too fast. It all makes sense, goddamn it, it all makes fucking sense. Hank’s head hurts, but one thing is sure inside of his head. “Calm down, Con, calm down please.” He walks back over to Connor, standing in front of him and running his hand through Connor’s hair. 

 

Connor goes tense beneath Hank’s fingers and he looks up, mouth slightly ajar in surprise. 

 

“I don’t agree with murder being the way to go. But, fuck, I understand, Con. You must have been going through hell and had to lower yourself to the lowest common denominator in order to get out. You shouldn’t have killed him, Connor, I am not going to turn you in,” Hank is certain and his eyes are hard set. 

 

More tears stream down Connor’s face and he pliantly falls against Hank’s stomach, arms wrapping around his waist. He doesn’t have anything to say, his LED bright red through his black curls. 

 

Hank smooths a hand over his hair, cooing low under his breath to calm him. Even Sumo comes back into the room, rubbing against Connor’s leg in an attempt to help.

 

“My memory came back, this morning,” Connor states, voice quiet and distant. He does not look up from Hank’s shirt. 

 

Hank’s heart jumps in his chest and he can’t help smiling. “I figured so. I’m glad to have you back, Connor.” He runs his fingers through Connor’s hair, massaging circles into his scalp. 

 

Connor lets a small sob slip from his lips, looking up at Hank now - his eyes glittering in the lights above. “I remembered, that I loved you,” he admits.

There is no answer from Hank, his mind is torn and tossed around the room in piles. Instead he leans down to kiss Connor on the forehead - his heart stopping at the look in the Android’s eyes. “Did you enjoy, killing him, Connor?” Hank dares to ask. 

Immediately Connor tenses and shakes his head no multiple times, he looks afraid at even the idea of Hank’s question. “Of course not, I didn’t have a choice. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. Every day, was worse and worse. Humans laughing, moaning as the life left my body. Holding me down and poking my LED until it turned red and then seeing how much more I could take. You were the only good thing, the  _ only _ good thing.” 

“So Bukejin didn’t kill him. God, does he know you did this?” Hank asks, leaning against the counter and keeping Connor’s head in his hand. He rubs his thumb absently behind Connor’s ear as he thinks. 

Connor bites his lip, staring at Sumo’s wagging tail. “He knows, he saw my memories the day he destroyed them. Destroyed you.” 

“Ah fuck. That’s why he waited so long for the fucking lawyer to come in. He may be conjuring up a plan to come after us, we have to get you out of this house before he starts running his mouth to the police.” Hank decides, though it hurts to see the betrayal on Connor’s face. 

“Hank,  _ no _ please no.” The tears rise again and Connor is panicked. Gripping both of Hank’s hand and holding them to his face, shaking. “Don’t make me leave, I can’t leave you. Please.”

Hank gently pulls Connor to his feet, pulling him over to the couch and sitting him there instead. Connor doesn’t stop holding his wrist until Hank motions towards a blanket. Connor let's go and Sumo bounds over to the couch, sitting at Connor’s feet and burying his big face in Connor’s lap. Hank puts a blanket around them both and sits at the coffee table straight across from Connor. “We don’t have a choice. Bukejin is coming after us, if he finds you at this house it is over. That Android, that made the speech today, they are speaking of him in high regards. Think he could actually change some shit. If you could find him, he could protect you, and when this all blows over you can come back to me.” 

Connor is shaking and blindly reaches out to put his hand on Hank’s knee. Needing some form of touch from Hank. “I-” He stutters and trails off, staring at the wall. “What if the Android knows what I did? What if he turns me in once I find him?” 

“We’re in a corner here, Con. And he is fighting for Android rights, he won’t turn you in,” Hank lies and puts his hand over Connor’s. Now that he knows how much Bukejin knows he can almost feel the timer counting down on them. Any second one of Bukejin’s boys is going to break in and rip Connor away from him. Get Connor deactivated and Hank behind bars somewhere with a target on his back. They have to move fast. “I have evidence, from a case with Androids. There was something weird about it that I kept, I have it somewhere on my terminal.” 

With that Hank stands up, holding Connor’s shoulder to keep him seated and walking over to the desk in the living room. He boots up his terminal and sits down, trying to remember the name of the case. “What type of evidence?” Connor asks, sounding small. Hank can hear him coming to terms with the situation they find themselves in. 

“There is a place, that deviants run too. I caught one in the subway trying to run, he had a symbol on his palm. My uniform camera recorded the symbol and I saved it into my terminal.” Hank pulls up the shaky photo and tilts the computer so Connor to see. “Get anything from this?”   
  


Connor tilts his head and looks at the screen - he’s scanning blankly. He looks at his own palm and takes a deep breath as the same card appears in his own palm. “Find the graffiti,” He whispers, seeing an objective for the first time in days. 

“It worked? Did you find it?” Hank moves away from his computer in favor of sitting on the coffee table again. Connor looks up and gazes hard at Hank - his LED is bright yellow. 

“Jericho.” He whispers and looks back to the club card sized picture in his hand. He blinks and the photo melds back into his palm. “If I go there, when can I come back? How will you find me?” He dares to ask. 

Hank bites his lip, gazing at Connor’s hand as he thinks. Connor tries to lean down and meet his eyes, not being able to make his body small enough. 

“You know where I am, I will always be here. Once everything tides over, you come back to me. I know you are afraid Connor, but we don’t really have a choice now. I promise I will do everything to protect you,” Hank brings Connor’s hand up, pressing the back to his cheek. 

A sad smile crosses Connor’s face as he feels the soft hairs of Hank’s beard. Hank looks to him, “I’ll follow you as far as I can, but we must be careful. I don’t know if we’re being trailed or not.”

Connor nods and moves to stand. Something in Hank breaks apart at the way he holds his own arms. Hank moves to grab Connor warmer, better clothes than he was wearing right now. While moving around his bedroom, his eyes catch on the photo album stuffed in the closet, he tentatively opens it towards the end - finding a picture of Sumo as a puppy, bubbly and standing in the bath. The nervous look on his face always makes Hank laugh. He slides the photo from the album and tucks it into the pocket of the overcoat. Maybe Connor will appreciate when he arrives in Jericho. 

“I love you,” Connor says, quiet, when Hank returns and puts the clothes on the coffee table. He has moved to the bookcase, leaning against it and staring at the symbol like a death marker. 

Hank sighs, feeling pained at having to send Connor out like this - kid barely even knew what a tree was and now he has to navigate a dangerous city all on his own. He walks over to Connor and pulls him into a hug, hoping it will somehow help him calm down - it’s a tough fucking night. “I know you do, Con. And when you get back, we’ll do whatever you want. No more staying inside okay? We’ll go everywhere your curious about, the beach, the forest, everything.” 

Connor sniffs and Hank pulls back to see his face set hard, determined. “I’ll see when as soon as I can.” He says, certain and smiling. 

With a nod and a gesture towards the clothes, Hank moves back from the hug to hold Connor’s upper arms. “Good luck, Connor,” is all he says in answer and pulls Connor into a soft kiss, ignoring the fear pressing against his chest from the inside. 

“Thank you, thank you for everything,” Connor’s lower lip quivers as he pulls back and looks intently at Hank’s eyes. Hank is the one to tear his gaze away, he puts in hands deep in his pockets and backs away willingly. Connor understands and shakily forces himself to nod. 

With that, Connor opens the door behind him, puts his hand on Hank’s forearm to pull him in and kiss him one last time. Then Connor turns away and Hank can’t stand to watch the Android shrink away into the darkness, so instead he begrudgingly closes the door - setting his head on the wood. 

#####  ▴

He’s on the couch, stuck in suspension from the DPD and nursing a beer. Two beers, but if you cross your eyes it looks like only one so - one beer. Sumo is curled up on the couch, Hank not having the energy to kick him off a hundred times. The dog seems, sad, ever since Connor went away to Jericho, he is always looking at the door. Fuck, Hank has even caught him perking up with he enters, only for the damned dog to be disappointed when he walks in instead. Not that he can blame him, Hank misses Connor more than fucking life itself at this point. 

The shit with Bukejin is near blowing over - Hank having born forced to take manslaughter from his record and replace it with tampering of police evidence and Android fighting. He told everyone that it was because he couldn’t find all of the evidence he needed to arrest. But the way Bukejin watched him said so much otherwise - so Hank sent him to a holding cell in the west side station instead. That was not all from Bukejin, of course. Two days after Connor had to leave, Hank came home to find many things in his home out of place, his alcohol missing and electronics gone. It looked like a robbery, but Hank knew the truth. Bukejin’s boys had come running and - after not finding Connor - staged a break in to throw Hank off the scent. They weren’t smart enough, especially when Hank looks at his closet to see every article of clothing thrown to the floor. 

Hank had never been so glad for his decision to make Connor leave, it was probably the only time he was glad for it, actually. 

The house is quiet without Connor, dark and dirty in contrast to the light Connor always brought in. Hank struggled to even get up for work nowadays - wanting desperately to be there for Connor if he should return home unannounced. He had gotten suspended after not showing up for three days straight, Fowler ripping him apart over the phone. The next day after the citywide curfew got placed, Fowler told Hank to stay home until he felt comfortable to come in. So Hank never came in, and nobody has called him since then. 

They are killing all the Androids now, sending them to camps. Hank watches the news in permanent fear that he may see Connor stumbling to his doom - scared and cold. He stopped drinking as well, just to make sure he is always ready in case Connor needs him to come collect the Android and take him home. So Hank has been more on edge, even Sumo isn’t lightening his sour move as he is watching the news. 

After 5 hours of being barricaded in front of a Cyberlife extermination plant, Markus is now giving a speech - stood upon a high stage and talking straight through the camera almost personally too Hank. Cannot say he doesn’t have the charisma of a leader, Hank thinks bitterly to himself and sighs into his beer. And no, “one” beer does  _ not _ fucking count as getting drunk - especially not with the tolerance Hank has racked up over the years. The speech is nice but Hank is only have paying attention, thoughts still on Connor. He worries at his lip while he thinks, staring blankly in the direction of the tv and not paying any attention. 

The beep of his phone has Hank moving so fast he almost knocks Sumo off of the couch. The dog barks in protest and readjusts in the perfect way to make Hank guilty. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes at the damned dog and grab his phone from the charging stand. 

And he actually does that one gasp, you know, the ones fucking teenage girls do when the young boys they got crushes on do literally anything. He makes that fucking sound, seeing the text from  #687 899 150 - 50 flash over his screen. “Need your help, Queens Street near Ronaldo's, hurry.” And when the Android you love and have worried is dead for three straight days texts you he needs help and to hurry - you motherfucking hurry. Hank turns on the sirens of his car immediately, fuck it, and slams his pedal to the floor on the drive to Queens Street. His heart stops as he looks over at the Ronaldo’s storefront, noticing a neon pink sign reflect in it’s windows, he turns his head. 

Eden Club.

Hank fucking parks in the road, loads his gun, and  _ runs _ . He’s at the front entrance when his body is grabbed, something inhumanly strong dragging Hank into the alley beside the store. He is about to cock his gun at the feet when he notices something very, very important. The Androids worn brown loafers do not fit in the least - tied as tight as Hank could get them. Who wears fucking loafers to lounge in? Goddamn Connor, that’s who. Connor drops them both behind two bins, breathing heavy and looking out between two garbage cans. 

  
“The sirens were a bit much,” Connor jokes, about to turn his head to Hank only to be grabbed by the front labels of his jacket - tugged forward hard so that his lips meet Hank’s hard. He giggles into Hank’s mouth before relaxing fully into the kiss and putting his hand on Hank’s wrist tenderly. 

“That is cute and all, but we need to get a fucking move on if we want to help Markus,” says a female voice and Hank breaks back from Connor to turn to her. Her hair is braided at the side, ginger and tucked into her shirt to avoid being grabbed. She’s not glaring at them, hiding her smile with a hard eye roll. 

  
Hank likes her almost instantly and turns back to where Connor has pressed his face to his shoulder. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Fingerprints, plexiglass is almost impossible to break without hurting those behind it. The space is too small.” Connor explains and holds up Hank’s hand, pressing his own palm against it gently. 

“Why would we need to break plexiglass?” Hank asks and turns to the girl, seeing her fiddle with her backpack string absently. 

“We are breaking the Androids out of the Eden club, tonight,” Connor explains. “Eden Club Corporate was able to keep it’s Androids in working order by powering them down until it all smooths over rather than killing them. We are going to make them regret that decision.” Connor smiles, looking determined. Hakn would almost feel like Connor didn’t need him if it weren’t for the way their hands were still pressed to one another. 

“Why did they get too do that?” Hank asks, letting the question hang in their air as the girl with them peeks out from the garbage cans, motioning for them to follow her down the alleyway towards the street at the back of the club. 

“Money, what else,” The girl huffs, sounding fed up with the world. 

Hank feels himself warming up to her already. “What’s your name? Are you from Jericho?” He can’t help but ask, having seen her hair before on one of the outlets - she was only few feet behind Markus throughout the march.

“Yeah, I’m North.” Is all she answers with, tense around the presence of so many questions. 

Connor appears at Hank’s side, smiling softly at him and pulling a pair of bolt cutters out from a backpack hank hadn’t seen before. “I met her in Jericho, she was like me, from a club just like this. North suggested freeing them in the midst of the revolution, to add to our numbers.” He explains under his breath to Hank, both of them pressed to the wall while North kills the security cameras around the back sections of the club. 

Connor cuts the wires quickly after North melts them with thermal sensors in her hands, all of them force themselves through the whole. Connor helping to right Hank as he stumbles through and pressing him to his chest while they walk up unto the truck port. North stands by the door, holding a gun in her hands, Hank takes the other side while Connor lines up to kick the door in. Both of the Androids LED’s turn yellow, presumably speaking mentally to one another, and Connor holds up his fingers to signal to Hank. 

At the one the door busts into pieces, exploding over the cement floor and shaking the overhead lights. Nobody is inside the room beside dormant Androids, hank checks diligently as the other two Androids work to deviat those in the back room. No matter where Hank goes he makes sure to keep the corner of his eye trained on Connor. 

The newly deviated Androids suddenly start to walk around, their bodies moving in different directions with different walking patterns. It is strange, to see them embrace their own deviancy. All of them head towards the truck port, open the metal garage door up, and head down the street towards what Hank guesses is Markus. 

“I hear voices, two human,” North says, her head pressed to the next door leading into the actual club. 

Hank’s skin crawls at the feeling of being back here, just remembering all that pain Connor had to face. He turns to see if Connor is alright, surprised to see the Android almost out of it, gazing blankly at the door. Hank hurries over, wrapping an arm over Connor’s shoulders and walking them both towards North. Connor looks to him, his eyes finally focusing as he smiles once more - Connor’s hand pats his pocket, the one where Hank stuffed Sumo’s photo. Hank nods and Connor looks pleased, hand entering his pocket to feel the photo. 

The countdown again on this door, Hank aiming his gun were North had prompted to easily hit where she believes the human’s to be. Connor’s strength knocks the door off of it’s hinges, it screams as the nails are ripped out or in half and falls with a clang on the triangle floor. 

“Ah, fuck,” Hank says immediately upon seeing Phoenix standing in front of them, his twin brother straight across. He moves fast, shoving North’s gun to the side so that she shoots blankly at the ceiling. 

“Idiot,” She clenches her teeth, Hank choosing to ignore her outburst. 

“I told you to fucking run,” Hank says to Phoenix, not wanting to hurt the poor fucking kid. He had begun to understand him after their investigation chat. 

Phoenix’s twin brother smiles, his eyes grim. “You brought our boy back, boss is going to be pleased. He says, pulling his own gun suddenly. Phoenix bites his lip before pulling out yet another gun. 

Hank can fucking feel North’s glare melt his skull and yeah, he probably deserved that. He suddenly feels a soft tap on his right foot, not bothering to look down to know that Connor just touched him. Shoot right, he can almost feel the command in his own head. 

Everyone moves at once, North hooks her foot around Hank’s ankle, shoving her behind him and in front of Connor as well. She shields them both with her body as Phoenix’s twin fires. Hank aims right, North aims left, and both the men fall - both clean wounds straight through the stomach. 

“Fuck me,” Hank sighs, “I really thought was one of the good ones,” He laments to himself, scooting fully into the plush pink room. When there is no answer he turns back around to see North, a bullet hole causing her to bleed firmly from his thigh. “Ah,  _ fuck me _ .” He curses with more vigor now, hurrying over to the girl and helping her sit on one of the empty pole platforms. 

North watches him, but she doesn’t look answer, just softly watching him as Hank struggles to tie his coat over the wound. He was not entirely sure if that trick applied to Android’s as well - but fuck if he wasn’t going to try it. “Humans,” North sighs, a teasing smile on her face as she moves to stand once more. “Thank you,” she tells Hank, “Let’s get the fuck outta here.” 

Hank nods, moving to have North wrap an arm around his shoulders. She gives him a death glare so piercing he shrinks under the gaze, North walks by herself with even a wobble. Fucking Androids. Hank thinks to himself. 

“Come help me please, Hank,” Connor says from the very front of the store, Hank hurrying over to him at the sound. There he finds Connor in front of a tube holding the first Traci they would deviate. Her LED is blue and she staring, unmoving like a mannequin. 

Hank uses his fingerprints to open the door, tossing in his work credit card number. They can fucking cover this shit, now that the media is going gaga over deviants and Markus. The glass slide open and Connor is gentle in taking the unknown Traci’s hand. She smiles in his direction, her body straightening tight. 

“Lieutenant,” North says from across them, Hank turns to help her open the other tubes. 

A few moments later Hank has them all open, walking around and finding Connor stuck - transfixed on an empty tube in the front hallway between the front door and bar section. Hank walks up next to him, touching his shoulder gently and having a hunch on what the tube is. 

RK-800, CONNOR is written on the blue pad beside the tube. 

“I feel like it’s been five years since I’ve stood here, but it has barely been a month,” Connor says, quiet, daunted by his own past. Hank’s hand is still on his shoulder and he moves it across to wrap his arm around them both and pull Connor to him. Their heads leaning on each other for support. 

“And look at what you’ve done in under a month. Escaped, freed hundreds of Androids from this place, put an awful man behind bars, deviated. God, I’m worried to see what you are going to do now that you have all the time in the world,” Hank is wistful and turns his head to nose into Connor’s hair. 

Connor sighs, wrapping his arms around himself and putting his hand on Hank’s around his shoulder. “I had to kill to get here, how can that be overcoming?” 

“It is a part of humanity, and now deviancy, to make mistakes. We all have to trudge through hell to see the light at the end. You had to kill a man, a bad man, because you thought you were going to die, that doesn’t make you wrong Connor. That just makes you a person who has done something wrong,” Hank tries his best to show his line of reasoning, pulling back from Connor’s hair to instead watch his LED, blue. “You know, Connor, I was once standing right here. The day we meant, I stood here and I picked you like, like some fucking object I guess. Like I was picking a dildo off of a table. I regret how I treated you that first day, but that means I can treat you better  _ now _ . You have to focus ahead, humanity and deviancy it’s all about making mistakes and learning to be better for them.”

  
“I love you,” Connor says again, turning to push his face into the side of Hank’s chest.  

Hank’s heart squeezes, the center of his torso feeling light and warm. He puts his head on top of Connor’s, wondering how he survived those five days without him - the house had been so quiet, and Hank had missed Connor’s inquizzitive, stupid questions and the way he always had time to pet Sumo, even as he was vacuuming or prepping dinner. “I love you too, Connor,” he says to him, a phrase he hasn’t said in fuck - maybe 12 years now. 

The stand there, staring at the tube that one held Connor’s entire life -thinking to themselves how quickly life can change, and how one little mistake in one person’s eyes - can actually be another person’s greatest moment. Bukejin is never going to hurt Connor again now, Connor has a house and a dog eagerly awaiting his return, and a bumbling old human that will follow him to the ends of the Earth. 

Connor sighs and pulls away from Hank, walking a few feet away from the tube before reaching back and holding a hand out towards him. “I’m tired of this place,” He smiles, “Let’s go take Sumo on a walk.” 

And who the fuck is Hank to disagree? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a fucking final chapter, eh? i really didn't want to add more chapters after changing it once so I decided to just throw everything in this final chapter (10,000 words! God!) 
> 
> thank you for reading this <3 I haven't written anything in 3 years and this is the first time I've tried to write again after losing my drive. 
> 
> I hope you liked the story and I promise I have a million more stories to come!


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